Status Pending
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: [Some shounen ai: Dearka x Yzak] Dearka is dating Miriallia, but Yzak still has feelings for the blonde. As the three struggle to understand each other, the Buster pilot's own emotions complicate matters. And the Blue Cosmos are on the move...
1. A Drunken Blunder

_A/N: Hi everyone, and welcome to my next big project. (I'm tired of the Oneshots.) I know, I'm already in the middle of something bigger. To those of you who have been keeping up with "Alchemic Reaction," my crossover between SEED and FMA, I thank you. I promise I'm still chipping away at that, so you won't have to wait much longer._

_This is my first try tackling the famed Triangle. Since it is, I decided to do a third-person limited omniscient POV and focus solely on telling the story from Mir and Yzak's perspective (for the purpose of simplicity). Let me know if things get confusing._

_Also, THIS STORY CONTAINS SHOUNEN AI! Let me reiterate: Although this story will have moments of Dea/Mir, there will also be instances of Dea/Yza in great abundance as well. If you don't approve of boy-on-boy pairings, please show yourself out. I will however, be working very hard to equally balance the attention I give to both relationships._

_With that said, I hope you enjoy the little mess I've cooked up here. The first chapter is mostly fun, but I do intend for it to get serious later. Onward!_

◊◊◊

Yzak Jule watched through narrowed eyes as Dearka slid an arm around the waist of Miriallia Haww, his girlfriend of three months and counting. He just didn't understand it. Then again, he didn't need to. It wasn't his business.

As the steady buzz of voices increased and his friends went on talking, he settled deeper into the cushions of the sofa, sidling as close to the edge of it as he could in order to distance himself from Yamato. To think that it had been mere months since the Freedom pilot had christened him with his scar, and now they were sharing the same sofa at a social gathering. He tried his hardest to ignore the pounding in his head and concentrated on the drink in his hand.

Athrun nudged him from his spot on the ground, where he was sitting with one arm flung loosely about Cagalli's shoulders. "Yzak, let's hear you say something for once," the Coordinator urged, and the pale boy met the suggestion with a poisonous glare of annoyance.

"All right then," the blue-headed male decided, turning back around to poke Lacus in the side. "Your turn."

Yzak nearly choked on his cocktail when the songstress hiccupped loudly and let out an uncharacteristic giggle of glee. Then he rolled his eyes. He ought to have expected it, in any case. For one thing, it was Dearka that was holding the get together, in his new apartment. His best friend was never the type to let a fun opportunity go to waste. And for another thing, none of them had gotten a decent chance to relax since the war's end. Cagalli was constantly being harassed by representatives from both ZAFT and the Earth Alliance, neither of which were quite ready to accept the neutral ideals of the Orb Union. Lacus was still on the run from those that wanted to hunt her down. And he and Dearka were still registered members of the ZAFT military, ready to be called back to duty at any time.

"Let's play Spin-The-Bottle," the Buster pilot suggested impishly, pouring himself another drink as he did so.

"Oh my," Lacus said, her pale eyes widening while Kira blushed behind her in his spot on the sofa.

Cagalli smirked at him over the rim of her glass. "What are we, twelve year olds? That game is for kids."

Dearka merely took hold of Athrun's empty beer bottle and placed it in the center of the floor. "Any game can be fun when you're drunk."

For a moment, Yzak almost admired the blonde's effort to bring them all together in a stress-free atmosphere. It allowed them to forget the pain of the war, if only for the time being. Then he remembered Dearka was hanging all over Miriallia, and that he hated socializing. He frowned and blocked out the loud results of the commencing game as Cagalli was forced to kiss her own brother.

Across the room, Miriallia was laughing at a comment made by the cheeky blonde at her side. Suddenly she felt a wave of something unpleasant hit her, and she instinctively turned toward the silver-haired Coordinator. Yzak sat mute, utterly detached from all shreds of conversation. No doubt he was seething at something internal, judging by the dark look that engulfed his features. The Natural female began to wonder again why he did not like her, but her nervous sentiments did not last. Dearka sprang forward to plant a kiss on her cheek, and she blushed furiously.

"What was that for?" she asked him, suddenly aware that all eyes were on her.

Her boyfriend grinned. "Pay attention. The bottle landed on you, my sweet. Now it's your turn."

She felt a playful smirk creep onto her face and wondered if her boldness was a direct result of the alcohol. "You can't get off that easy, buster," she said, gripping the blonde's shirt collar and dragging him forward. "I want a _real_ kiss."

He didn't protest. The Buster pilot kissed her full on the lips, a searing affair that tasted slightly of gin and tonic water but was pleasant nonetheless. The move drew a catcall from Cagalli, who had always been the first to tease the two at the beginning of their tentative relationship. When the tanned youth pulled away, she was breathless. Dearka had always been an expert when it came to making her weak with pleasure.

"Now you go," he said to her when it seemed she'd come back to the present.

The former CIC shook her head. "I don't want to. The only person I want kissing me is you."

At first the blonde appeared baffled. Then he shrugged. "Fine," he said, "I'll take your turn. More for me. Geez, Mir, you suck the fun right out of it."

She knew he was kidding, but she slapped him playfully on the shoulder anyway. "Suit yourself, but don't blame me if you end up kissing Athrun or Kira."

"_I'll_ kiss Kira," Athrun volunteered, much to his childhood friend's great terror, "But there's no way I'm kissing _Dearka_."

"My," Lacus observed with a hand to her cheek, "I really think all of us have had too much to drink."

"It's a little late for that." Dearka grinned and left his spot at Miriallia's side, making his way to the waiting bottle as Yzak watched from his unchanged position.

The Duel pilot couldn't tell whether his fellow Coordinator was drunk or not. He knew from experience that it was nearly impossible to tell. Dearka was the same Dearka, drunk or not. For now he'd sit back and wait. No doubt if the blonde _was_ drunk it'd turn out amusing at some point.

The bottle rocked and spun along on its spiral path, finally ceasing its journey with its neck facing Yzak. At first the silver-haired male failed to respond. Then he realized Dearka's gaze was fixed on him, and the room had gone quiet. He resisted the urge to curse aloud.

"Well," Dearka let the words slip off his tongue in a simple monotone, the look on his face blank as he met his best friend's icy stare.

"I'm not playing," Yzak said flatly, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance.

Cagalli snorted. "I should have known you'd be the chicken that'd spoil the game."

Yzak fumed. If he'd hated the Princess of Orb before, it was nothing compared to the loathing he felt for her now. Miriallia had somehow been allowed to give them the slip. He'd be damned if he didn't get to do the same thing.

"I'm not…" But the words died on his lips as he caught a glint of something in Dearka's violet eyes.

The blonde stood passively, awaiting his former teammate's decision as if any sudden movement might set off a slew of invisible bombs. At once Yzak felt a jolt of something course through him. Regret? Impossible. He'd buried all feelings he'd once harbored for the tanned youth long ago. He'd detached himself once he'd learned the blonde had gone MIA during the war, and was damn glad he did, because when they'd reunited Dearka had already become involved with Miriallia Haww. His choice had been sound. But was it possible now that _Dearka_ was the one suffering second thoughts?

"Spin it again," Yzak demanded, breaking eye contact and brushing the contemptuous looks from his comrades aside. "I'm not going to kiss you."

Miriallia lost her patience. "Just do it," she commanded, and Yzak pinned her with a withering glare.

The Natural had no idea why she'd said it. Perhaps it was because she was mildly curious. Sure, she'd heard rumors of Dearka's past relationship with the bad-humored male, but there was no doubt in her mind that Dearka now genuinely cared for _her_. So why did she feel the sudden need to test her theory? She had no further time to contemplate her own actions, however. Yzak was watching her every move, and she was careful to arrange the features of her face into an uncaring grin.

"Go ahead," she urged, "Dearka's taking _my_ turn, remember? _I'd_ kiss you without being a baby about it."

Yzak's face contorted into a venomous sneer. "What makes you think I'd ever _let_ you, Haww?"

Dearka was immediately jolted from his silence. "Easy, you two," he ventured, but other than that he didn't move.

Yzak sprung from the sofa, straightening as he made for the kitchen. He planned his exit to carry him around the other side of the coffee table, separating him from his best friend.

Dearka was on his tail within seconds. "Now just hold on…"

Yzak felt a light tug on his wrist. He jerked his arm away, tripping over Kira's extended foot in his haste. The Freedom pilot yelped a belated apology as the two boys tumbled down atop each other in the center of the floor.

Yzak groaned. He hadn't consumed as much alcohol as the others, but the sudden drop made his head whirl. He squeezed his eyes shut and remained still as the stunned blonde shifted above him.

Quite a long time had elapsed since the last instance he'd been this close to Dearka. The memories were still fresh, lingering like the scent of the blonde's strawberry shampoo when he emerged from the shower, glistening with droplets. His heart pounded. It was incredibly stupid of him to be thinking of those memories at a time like this.

"Get the hell off me." The silver-haired youth struggled as Dearka propped himself onto his elbows to relieve some of the pressure.

Miriallia blinked. She hadn't expected that. Maintaining her cool while the two men kissed was within her limits. Watching two former lovers sprawled across each other on the floor was another matter altogether. Her mouth went dry, but she ordered herself to remain calm. Dearka cared for her. And she held nothing against Yzak, regardless of what _he_ thought of _her_. The Buster pilot would not allow himself to be seduced by something so trivial. It would all be over shortly.

"Shit," Dearka muttered as he shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry, Yzak."

The Duel pilot froze. An apology was the last thing he'd expected. A snide remark, yes. Maybe even some sort of innuendo. Not an apology. The sudden seriousness of their situation worried him.

"Just get off," was all Yzak said, turning his head to one side to avoid the other male's violet gaze.

Dearka's cool breath tickled the side of his neck. "First I have to kiss you." He didn't give his quarry time to object.

Yzak felt Dearka's palm press lightly against his cheek and pull him into a deep kiss. His blue eyes flew wide with alarm, and he fought it. He fought it with all his might, even as his felt his will power draining. He desperately, _desperately_ wanted to give in, but if he did…

"Oh my," Lacus twittered, turning away as the kiss was drawn out longer than expected. Cagalli let out a laugh in response.

Yzak barely heard them. His control was shattering. It all felt so good, so despicably delicious it was almost sinful. Dearka's firm lips against his own, their bodies pressed together on the floor, the way the blonde's fingers automatically took up the familiar task of running through his silver locks…

His eyes flickered shut. He couldn't help but let out a small sound of satisfaction as Dearka allowed his tongue to penetrate his mouth. Damn it all to the deepest pits of hell — he had to get the blonde to stop before they made a spectacle of themselves. Just then Yzak caught a glimpse of Miriallia from the corner of his eye as she growled something and shifted from her seat in a panic. That's right, she was his girlfriend. He was kissing someone he wasn't supposed to be locking lips with. But it wasn't his fault, was it? Dearka kept on with his vigorous routine and he submitted with half his consciousness.

"Dearka," Kira called, clenching the arm of the sofa tightly after witnessing Mir's anxiety. The brunette swapped glances with Athrun, who was watching the scene unfold with sheer horror plastered over his features.

The two Coordinators waited to see if the blonde would respond before taking action. Athrun stood, and Kira followed suit. Within seconds they had pulled the Buster pilot away from his position atop the silver-haired male.

Yzak gasped for breath, trying hard to quench the mad fluttering in his midsection. He swiped a hand violently across his mouth as if trying to cleanse himself of his sin, thanking whatever gods there were that the other two had thought to step in. He vowed to go easier on Zala in the future. Miriallia looked calmer now, he observed humorlessly. It wasn't that he was afraid of her. If anything, he feared himself. Had Dearka kissed him for any longer than he did…

"I think that's all for tonight," Kira announced to the entire room. "No more fun and games."

Dearka looked momentarily horrified with himself. At the sound of Kira's voice, however, he regained his composure. "I guess Yamato is right. Heh, looks like I got carried away. Thanks for coming though, all of you. We'll do this again sometime." He winked at Mir good naturedly before ushering the rest out the door.

Miriallia glanced dazedly at Yzak, who was still breathing hard on the floor. Then she studied her nonchalant boyfriend at the door. Both she and the prostrate ZAFT soldier were staying the night at Dearka's apartment, even though Yzak himself lived just down the hall in the same complex. The three of them would have to have a talk in the morning.


	2. Battle Over Breakfast

Miriallia Haww rolled out of her borrowed futon with a piercing headache and a blurry memory. She berated herself for drinking so much the night before. Never had she done a thing so ridiculous. It wasn't as if she didn't like to have a good time, but drinking wasn't exactly on her agenda. Now she knew why. What fools everyone had made of themselves! Details were fuzzy, and she didn't dare try to recall the embarrassing things that she herself might have done.

One incident stuck out clearly in her mind despite her drowsiness. One that no amount of alcohol could make her forget. Her boyfriend had been making out with his best friend and former lover on the floor. She rubbed her eyes as she tried to rise, shuffling her way to the small kitchen in a morning daze.

"…_Has alerted the public that the Blue Cosmos have been active in the surrounding areas. Police stated that the terrorist group is under control and all hostilities will be prevented by careful—_"

"Morning, Haww."

Miriallia blinked, whirling around to catch the silhouette of the pale Coordinator standing in front of the television. She'd forgotten that he'd also spent the night at the apartment.

Yzak could see that he'd startled her. He hadn't meant to. In fact, curse him for a weakling, but he actually felt a tiny stab of guilt concerning what he'd been a part of the night before. It still wasn't enough to make him apologize, however, and he smirked as she groped her way to one of the cabinets.

"Hangover?" he guessed snidely.

"Actually, yes." She ignored his hostile attitude as she scrounged through Dearka's messy dwelling for the painkillers. "Or maybe they're in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom…" She muttered to herself as she strove to banish the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

"No, they're in here," Yzak volunteered, half his attention still on the news. "Third cabinet on the left."

Miriallia paused, her hand hovering over the referred door handle. "Why are you suddenly being so nice?" she probed, proceeding to swallow two of the pills without taking a liquid.

Yzak grimaced while watching her do so. Then he sneered. _Nice_? No, nice was not what he'd been going for. It was more…

"Necessity," he told her aloud.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not being nice," he explained, as if speaking to a child. "I'm simply doing what I have to out of necessity. I'm making life easier for Dearka. This way he won't have to deal with some fragile, weak female moping around his apartment all morning."

Miriallia didn't know whether to be grateful or insulted. She settled on a mixture of the two.

"Well then I guess it's good that you got _your_ fragile self out of the way first then, hmm?" She opened the refrigerator and searched its dim interior.

Yzak contemplated shooting a loud insult in her direction, but instead decided to throw her a smoldering glare.

"Actually, Haww, _I_ was never an issue to begin with. You see, I know what my limits are and how to hold my alcohol." He watched her grip on the milk carton tighten.

"Perhaps you aren't an issue _now_, Mr. Jule," she said coolly, "But you were last night when you were underneath Dearka, whether you were drunk or not." She smiled inwardly when the pale boy sobered.

Yzak had nothing to say to retaliate. He was aware that he was being a complete ass, but he didn't care. He never had. And he'd be damned if he started caring now. He wouldn't, especially not for her sake. He stormed over to the pantry and tore open a new box of cereal.

Miriallia studied him, working hard to keep an open mind. She knew the encounter with Dearka hadn't been the Duel pilot's fault at all. If anyone, she should have taken up her disapproval with the man who was really to blame. But the Buster pilot was still asleep, and for some reason she had yet to determine, she'd again found herself provoking the silver-haired youth before her.

"Look," she began, fiddling with her glass and watching him from her spot at the table, "I know it wasn't you who asked for Dearka to do that."

Yzak continued to inhale his breakfast, but he made sure to listen. In fact, he found it rather amusing. Was she trying to make peace with him? Very amusing, indeed.

"The fact is," she went on, "That you and he used to be close. I realize that I may have taken a spot in his life that you used to occupy. But I don't want you to hate me for it, Yzak."

He stopped eating. The tone in her voice was positively _desperate_. For a minute he just looked at her, trying hard to analyze whatever was making her so determined to get on his good side.

Miriallia returned his steady gaze. She knew he was sizing her up. A closer look told her that he thought she was desperate to befriend him. That wasn't what she'd been going for.

"I'm not completely desperate, contrary to what you may think," she said flatly.

Yzak didn't let her know that he'd been startled by her accurate interpretation of his thoughts. "Could have fooled me," he answered slyly.

She reached across the table and grabbed the cereal box. "How do you eat this stuff dry?" She made a face.

He felt his annoyance rising. "The same way you swallow those damned pills without water," he shot back, returning to his breakfast in a huff.

She'd been on the verge of taking her first bite when her spoon froze. "I'm not asking you to like me," she told him bluntly. "And as a matter of fact, even though I'm trying, I'm not so sure _I_ like _you_."

Yzak smirked. Good. It seemed they were finally on the same wavelength.

"All I want is for us to be able to function humanely when we're around each other. We need to do it for Dearka, 'kay?"

He'd been about to laugh at the clichéd speech, been ready to poke fun at the let's-all-just-get-along theme when the last part of her words hit him like a freight train. _For Dearka_. He frowned. She was probably right.

But Yzak never really did what was right, anyway.

"Do you want to know what I think, Haww?" he asked, finishing the remnants of his cereal and rising in a rage, "I think you're nothing but a naïve, bored little Natural out for a joy ride."

Miriallia rose from her seat in anger. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"For one thing, stop treating me like some romantic rival," he seethed. "I have no interest in Dearka — he's my best friend. If you want to make me into a jealous ex-lover out of your own boredom, go ahead, but it'll only prove that you're as stupid as I thought." He spat the words as if they were poisoned.

Mir was dumbstruck. She supposed, in her sudden state of stricken realization, that he was right. She _had_ been regarding him as a bit of an opponent. She again reminded herself that last night's incident had been entirely Dearka's doing. Yzak opened his mouth once more when she failed to respond. Apparently he wasn't finished.

"And also, Haww, unless you grow up, how am I supposed to believe that you're serious about dating him?"

Yzak couldn't believe he was spouting the garbage he was, taking an active part in his best friend's love affair. The words seared the tip of his tongue. Disgusting. He really had no interest. Hell, he had next to no experience in the department himself, but he decided in his anger to go with whatever he'd started. He _did_ care about Dearka, after all, and whatever messes the blonde got himself into would probably affect _their_ relationship in the long run. And if that wasn't enough, the Natural in front of him antagonized him to no end.

Miriallia stared at the Coordinator across from her, fighting back laughter. Then the laughter bubbled up and erupted despite her valiant effort.

"You have no idea what you're actually talking about, do you?" she predicted. "You're improvising." She watched him squirm as he began to look uncomfortable. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. It was clear to her now that she was facing an Yzak that felt cornered — deprived of his place in his best friend's life because the new girlfriend had stepped in. She almost giggled at her previous suspicions. He was probably just jealous.

The silver-haired youth scrutinized her features as they underwent numerous changes. Then it was his turn to read her mind.

"I'm not jealous of anyone, least of all you, if that's what you think," he remarked. "So don't flatter yourself."

Miriallia's threatening giggles were quenched. "Fine. I'm sorry I treated you with so much suspicion earlier."

Minutes ago, her sudden apology would have caught him off guard. Not now. Yzak was finally beginning to grasp the glitches in her character. For a female, she was simpler to understand than he'd formerly believed. But that didn't mean he'd be any more willing to call a truce.

"It looks like Dearka's the one who's been causing most of the problems here," Mir smiled, clicking off the television to eliminate the dull background murmur. "When that lug wakes up…"

"Morning." Dearka tromped into the tight kitchen, ruffling his course hair with a lazy hand and yawning. He was clad in only boxer shorts, exposing his tanned, muscled back and shoulders to both of the room's occupants as he bent to raid the refrigerator.

Yzak and Miriallia both turned different degrees of pink and focused their vision elsewhere.

Dearka glanced up when he received no reply from either of the two. "Guys?"

Yzak tossed a strand of silver hair from his face and scoffed. "I'm going back to my apartment. Stop by when you decide you can't live without your orange juice. It's gone, in case you hadn't noticed." He pivoted on his heel and made for the door. Miriallia followed the path of his retreat in mild surprise.

"You drank it," Dearka observed, without bothering to check to see if the declaration was true. He shook his head fondly as the Duel pilot exited.

"Obviously," came the swift reply. Then the door closed.


	3. Lunch Date

"Dearka," Miriallia called as the blonde shuffled tiredly for the bathroom, "Wait a second!" She glanced once more at the spot Yzak had previously been standing, then back to where her boyfriend was poking his head around the doorframe.

"Wazza matta?" he inquired from around his toothbrush.

The Natural grinned. "Given up on that orange juice already?" she joked.

"It's almost noon now. I thought we should just go out to eat somewhere."

Hands met hips as she threw him a mock glare. "And just who is it that'll be paying for this meal?" Her mouth dropped open as he fixed her with an impish grin before disappearing back into the bathroom without reply. "Hey!" The gurgle of the sink suggested that she'd been ignored.

She crept silently over to the door, readying herself to spring into the small space and startle him while he was brushing his teeth. Her mischievous plan was met, however, by nothing but empty space. The faucet bubbled over unceremoniously, Niagara Falls with no tourists. Where…

Then she felt a pair of strong, muscled arms close around her from behind, and she shrieked in glee.

"Well, well," he murmured low in her ear as he tried to prevent her from reaching him, "Lost your element of surprise, didn't you?"

Miriallia felt an army of pleasant shivers go marching up her back as he spoke. Her heart raced. She'd probably never get used to the way her body reacted every time he made contact. All it took was one subtle, seductive word, one simple touch, and she was lost in his presence. She relaxed into his grip, and he buried his face in her hair.

"I was kidding. You won't have to pay," the ZAFT soldier added after remaining still for a time. "I offered."

His warm hands slid down her sides to settle on her hips, where he began to toy absently with the elastic hem of her pajama bottoms. She leaned her head back when he bent forward to place a steaming kiss on the side of her neck.

"Or," he whispered as he sucked lightly at the tender spot, "We could just stay here."

It was a tempting proposition. She felt weak at the knees already. But there were things they needed to talk about, and she couldn't allow her insatiable lust to take over just yet.

"I'm hungry," she grumbled, and he let her go when she tugged herself free.

His eyes widened comically. "You just ate." Then he burst into laughter. "Why does that not surprise me at all, Mir?"

She watched his glittering violet eyes while he struggled to control his chuckles. He was always so handsome when he laughed.

"I'm a growing person," she insisted, "I need nourishment!" Then she stuck her tongue out for good measure.

He responded to her challenge by stepping forward, closing his lips over her mouth and biting down teasingly. He kissed her deeply, pulling away only after leaving her breathless and craving more.

"You're too damn cute, Haww, do you know that?"

"Which is why you love me."

"And why I can hardly keep my hands off you." He accentuated his statement by tweaking her playfully on the nose.

She left to get dressed, after Dearka promised they'd go some place where they could eat outside. She dressed leisurely, taking time to make sure that everything was perfect. She knew the blonde cared nothing for what she wore on her outer person, but she tried to choose a flattering ensemble nonetheless. Dearka's inattention to clothing and makeup was one of the things she adored about him, and though she knew he'd like her the same no matter what she put on, she decided to try particularly hard anyway. It wasn't everyday that he had the ambition to take her out for lunch.

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, clad in sandals and her favorite yellow sundress. Dearka was leaning casually against the doorframe, awaiting his princess outside her royal chamber.

He extended his hand and she took it. "You look good," he told her, and she had to struggle to keep a straight face the moment she realized she had genuinely dazzled him.

"You're such a simpleton," she replied, falling into her pretended role of princess with a regal toss of her head. "It's only a sundress, Sir."

"A sundress for a princess," he insisted, twirling her around once before leading her to the apartment door.

Suddenly Miriallia let out a loud guffaw. "Hah, I wonder what Cagalli would do to us if she were here." The image conjured fourth was beyond hysterical. "Considering she's a _real_ princess, I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate us making jokes."

Dearka dropped her hand and shook his fist in the air in an impression of the Orb representative. "I don't act like that! Don't call me a Princess!"

"That imitation was positively terrible."

The blonde pouted. "Do I look like a ravaging tomboy princess to you?" he asked innocently. "I don't know how Athrun stands her."

Her mouth dropped open in horror. "That was terrible!"

"You like me anyway."

"I guess so." The matter was settled.

He took her to an outdoor café, on one side of the park beside a cozy little Spanish-style building. To Miriallia's surprise, the blonde instructed her to order whatever she wanted. He changed his mind and was forced to limit her after her second turkey wrap, third chocolate chip cookie and numerous glasses of milk to wash it down. Other than that, their lunch date went on without a hitch. Dearka seemed his usual, humorous self, right down to the way he commented on their waitress's generous curves.

"We can stop for an ice cream before we head back," he offered, nodding to the café's ruddy-faced proprietor on the way out. He'd had to ask the kindly man to put the cost of their meal on his tab.

"Does the ice cream man keep a running tab on you, too?" Mir mumbled, embarrassed that she hadn't known her boyfriend was broke _before_ she'd gone to town.

The blonde made a cheeky face and set off toward the center of the park. "I think it's safe to say that _you'll_ be paying for the ice cream."

She tried to hide a grin. "Is that so?" She didn't mind at all. In fact, after the way his tab likely skyrocketed due to her greedy stomach, she owed it to him. She watched him walk a bit ahead of her, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, head up as the wind toyed with his rumpled hair. Same old Dearka, all right.

"So, Mr. Elsman," she said once she'd jogged to catch up to him, "Is there a reason for taking me out all of a sudden?"

He raised an eyebrow at her mischievously. "Do I need a reason, or are you trying to make me feel guilty about something?" They'd reached the ice cream cart. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped up to the vendor and ordered Mir a chocolate cone with gummy bears, and a strawberry for himself. Miriallia shook her head at his predictability. The Coordinator _did_ always have a special liking for all things strawberry.

She took her treat when he handed it to her, but barely had she finished her first bite when he grabbed her wrist.

"Stop," he ordered, raising her hand to his mouth. He licked the edges of her cone and gave the Natural girl a naughty stare. "If you don't lick the sides first, it'll drip."

Miriallia snatched the ice cream back and hid her blush behind another big bite, savoring the chewy gummy bears as they resumed walking. She was hardly halfway into her chocolate dessert when she was bumped from behind. The scoop of ice cream went sailing from the top of her cone to land with an unappetizing squelch on the hot sidewalk, where the gummy bears oozed about in the swiftly melting chocolate. The Natural gaped at her lost dessert.

"I-I'm so sorry," gasped a nervous looking woman as she hurried past, trampling the fallen scoop of ice cream in her haste to move on. "I…"

"HEY!" The loud call echoed from somewhere off to their right, and Miriallia watched as the woman panicked.

"I'm really very sorry," she apologized again, bowing quickly and taking off.

"What the…" Dearka swore and glared after the retreating figure in shock. He made as if to go after her, but he stepped into the path of three men already in her pursuit and they were forced to maneuver around him.

One of them shoved the blonde aside. "Move it."

Dearka's eyebrow twitched, and Mir knew the Buster pilot was on his last thread of patience. "Now just a minute," he called, seizing the collar of the man who had hit him. He pressed his strawberry cone into his girlfriend's possession with his free hand. "Hold that."

Miriallia took the cone without arguement, wondering if she should step in. She studied Dearka's face. He wasn't in the mood to start trouble, but neither would he allow the three hasty men to walk away without an apology. She watched while the one in Dearka's grasp fixed his captor with an ugly sneer.

"You'll stop wasting my time if you know what's good for you," he threatened, motioning simultaneously for the other two men to go on ahead. They took off at a sprint in the direction of the woman.

"And why's that?" Dearka demanded, ignoring the departure of the twin lackeys. "I don't want trouble, but I think you owe us an apology. And I think you should leave that woman alone." Then he released his quarry.

The man straightened his collar and snickered. "She was nothing but a filthy whore with manipulated genes. If you're smart you'll stay out of it. Unless," his voice lowered dangerously, "You're one of those disgusting Coordinators as well."

Miriallia's eyes widened as the newsflash she'd heard that morning raced to the foreground of her memory. _Blue Cosmos_. Ice cream forgotten, she took the blonde by the sleeve and spoke so only he could hear.

"Dearka, leave it alone."

He responded only with a low growl, but took a step back when he noted the urgent look on her face. The stranger spat and left them, but only after treating them both to another cruel sneer.

The blonde mobile suit pilot looked offended, but the biting sarcasm in his voice proved he was not the least bit intimidated. "Why are the stupid Naturals always the ones who want to start a fight?"

Miriallia went quiet. "Are you forgetting that _I'm_ also one of them?"

"Ah, well…" Dearka massaged the back of his neck with anxiety. "You see, I didn't…"

Her face lit up, and she punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Just kidding." Her lips quirked up in the corners as he sagged in relief. "But really, Dearka, you should be careful what you say. They could have been Blue Cosmos."

He looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second set of ears. "Blue Cosmos? _Here_?"

"I saw it on the news this morning. Who knows what they're up to these days."

Dearka's brow darkened, and he narrowed his violet eyes to peer into the distance where the three men had disappeared. "Sometimes I think what we did in that war was all for nothing," he grumbled.

"Cheer up," the former CIC advised, handing him back his half-melted cone. "Let's go back to the apartment and see what Yzak is doing."

"Yzak?" The Buster pilot's face brightened at the suggestion. "I thought you two hated each other."

She gulped and let out a nervous laugh. "What makes you think that?"

"I heard the conversation you two had this morning, nice and loud in my kitchen."

Miriallia Haww cursed herself in every language she knew before she could consider scraping up the gall to answer. What a fool she must have sounded to him.

"You don't have to explain anything," he told her, no doubt noticing the way in which she began to fidget with the hem of her sundress in alarm. "But I promise you, he's really not a bad guy. He just takes some getting used to. Besides," she looked up and he met her gaze with a cool smile, "I really want the two of you to get along."

Miriallia stammered something of a reply, but in truth, she didn't know what to say. She'd proposed the same thing to the silver-haired ZAFT soldier earlier, but it had ended up sounding ridiculous to both parties. Of course, there might still be a chance to learn to understand his blazing temper and stinging comments, but…

"He and I have been through a lot together," the blonde continued, giving her hand a squeeze as they rounded the corner and moved into view of the apartment complex. "So you'll try, right? You'll try to tolerate him?"

His smile was so warm, and his trust in her lifted her spirits significantly. If Dearka believed in her, she could certainly believe in herself. She knew the incident from last night still bothered her, but she brushed it from her mind. Their day out had convinced her there was nothing left to fear.

"I'll work on it," she promised him.

_A/N: Ugh, this chapter was hard. I have a hard time understanding the way Dearka and Miriallia work. I guess I just can't grasp their relationship that well. I hope everything seemed accurate! One day I'll be as good at writing them as PaolaAdara, damn it!_


	4. Shattered Glass

Yzak stormed about the interior of his apartment, resisting the urge to tear out reams of his thin, silken hair in his frothing anger. First the couple from the Black Lagoon, and now _this_. What had he ever done to deserve such an ample amount of damage?

Torturing himself by kicking furniture was probably not a worthy application of his strength. If anything, he ought to have been cleaning up the disaster on the floor of his bedroom. The Duel pilot halted mid-charge, sucking in deep, cleansing breaths. It was just a few shards of scattered glass, a crack in the plaster here and there… Nothing to throw a fit about.

He immediately let out a string of profanities and slammed his fist onto the kitchen counter.

"Y-Yzak?"

The pale youth spun around, the ice in hishard, blue eyes crackling like static darts. "What is it?" His temper didn't waver even as Dearka and Miriallia tiptoed into his dwelling.

"What the hell is going on?" Dearka questioned automatically. "We heard you making a racket from down the hall. If the land lady hears you…"

The pale Coordinator spit his next phrase through his teeth. "To hell with the god damned land lady! Go see for yourself what went on here while I was at your place last night." He pointed a narrow finger toward his bedroom and remained rooted to his spot, boiling like am overripe kettle.

The blonde tossed him a puzzled look before striding coolly to the offending area. Miriallia hung back and observed the irate home-owner, feeling odd when she found herself not frightened, but impressed. How anyone could stay consistently angry and still manage not to trigger a hernia was beyond her comprehension.

"I've never seen anyone throw a fit like that," she exclaimed, taking in the shadow of his hunched, sulking figure as she stood baffled.

He treated her awe with a sinister baring of his teeth. "Think before you speak, Haww," he warned her, glaring from under long lashes. "You're the one that almost killed Dearka on your cursed legged ship."

Her half-formed response caught in her throat, and she turned an ashamed, reddened hue. Without another word, the former CIC set off after her retreating boyfriend. Then she gasped.

Yzak's bedroom had been ravaged, as if by a pack of starving beasts. A hole gaped where the glass of the window had once been. The clear material had burst like a dying star and deposited its remains across the plush carpet. The Natural scanned the floor in search of the weapons that had caused the breakage. The only thing that caught her eye was the orange-sized dents in the plaster of the walls where the heavy objects had come to a jerked stop.

"What did they use to break the window?" Dearka asked, disgusted by the immature attack on his best friend's property.

Yzak joined them with a sour look on his face. "I already cleaned those up," he said, seeming to have calmed somewhat. "Rocks. And some heavy lab equipment." His lips twisted into a perilous snarl.

"_Lab_ equipment?" Mir echoed, horrified as the situation began to dawn on her. "They targeted you because you're a Coordinator!"

"I'm amazed at your ever increasing intelligence, Haww." The pale ZAFT soldier rolled his eyes.

Dearka had been silent, inspecting the room while taking care not to step on the shards of glass. Now he ran a hand through his tousled hair and looked at Yzak.

"What did you do that could have brought this on?" he asked seriously. Miriallia guessed that he was thanking his lucky stars he hadn't picked a fight with the men in the park.

"As if I have a clue." The young pilot was careful to avoid his friend's gaze.

"Come on, work with me, Yzak." Dearka's tone softened.

The silver-haired youth felt his spine tingle, and to his surprise he actually began to relax. He unfolded his arms and took a slow breath, swearing that even after all these years, he _still_ didn't know what it was about the blonde that could make him feel he had control when things were out of hand.

"I got into a brawl with a group of lousy Natural scum," he specified, "At the park last week." Then he clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to divulge anything further. The blonde may have calmed his storm of anger, but he would not make him open up.

"They may have been Blue Cosmos as well," Miriallia volunteered, pacing back and forth in thought. Then she lifted an eyebrow in his direction. "Which is why you were so keen on watching the news this morning, I'm guessing."

"Brilliant, Haww. Yes, they were Blue Cosmos," Yzak said, before he could realize that he'd just _agreed_ with the object of his irrational loathing. "I'd know that awful catch-phrase anywhere." He shivered.

Dearka crossed the room again to mull it over with them at the door. "Why'd you have to provoke them?"

"He was probably just defending himself. It's no big deal. There are jerks like that everywhere." The energetic Natural faced the Duel pilot. "We'll help clean it up."

Yzak blinked at her. She threw him a reassuring smile. It made him sick.

Miriallia knew the bad-tempered male didn't appreciate her intrusion. The crime committed by her own kind plagued her, however, and she suddenly felt the urge to compensate. No matter how cruel and sarcastic the pale soldier could get at times, he didn't deserve to be targeted by misguided terrorists.

"We can use duct tape to cover the window with cardboard for now," she suggested, throwing Dearka a help-your-best-friend-now, have-fun-later look when he raised a lazy eyebrow.

The blonde gave in with a shrug. "Okay. But I'm sure I don't have any tape back at my place, and yours is too far away."

The silver-haired pilot slapped a palm to his forehead and muttered something dark and unintelligible.

Dearka understood him despite his low murmurs of defeat. "If you don't mind my saying so, Yzak, _you_ didn't mention that you had any either."

His head snapped up and he bared his teeth. "For crying out loud, Elsman. What would _I_ ever do with duct tape?" He simmered. The blonde only smiled, refusing to take the bait and acknowledge the rude allusion to his girlfriend and what Yzak assumed they did in their spare time.

"You could fix broken windows, for one."

Miriallia watched as the two bickered, wondering how they'd ever gotten anything accomplished in battle. "I can run and get some if you like," she offered. "The store is just down the street."

"Yes, Haww, go," Yzak dismissed her. "And take this idiot with you." He rubbed the tender spots beside his temples in agony.

Dearka shook his head. "You can't get rid of me that easily." He snickered once before nodding in Mir's direction. "Go ahead," he told her, "We'll be fine."

She hesitated, looking back and forth between the two ZAFT soldiers in her indecision. Then she forced a smile.

"All right. I'll be back soon."

Yzak watched her leave through hooded lids, but refrained from commenting. Thinking of an insult really wasn't worth his time at the current instant. Now he was alone with the same being he'd been trapped beneath the previous night — the last thing he wanted while in his unstable state of mind.

Dearka bent and slowly began to pick up the pieces of broken window. Yzak snapped out of his silent brooding session and knelt to help, wondering why his face felt so damned hot all of a sudden.

"You don't like her, do you?" The inquiry jolted him into the present.

"Wh-what?"

"Miriallia." The Buster pilot looked straight ahead as he swept the carpet for any unseen shards. "And you never will like her, will you?" The sun that filtered through the open window caught the golden sheen of his skin and glinted off his violet eyes.

Yzak snorted and resumed his work. "Should I?" He expected the blonde to scold him just then, but all he did was laugh.

"You're the same as ever, Yzak," he observed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You really haven't changed a bit."

"It hasn't been that long, you know." The pale youth's words were tinged with bitterness. "And _you're _the one who's changed." He violently wished to stem the flow of words that poured from his mouth, but the commands from his brain wouldn't make it to his lips. "You've been different ever since you came back. The last time I saw you on the Vesalius, you were you. Then you were gone and I thought you'd died, but when I saw you again you were with her."

Dearka took a long time to respond. Yzak felt like kicking himself.

"A lot of things happened," the tanned male finally replied. "You know that. I told you when we fought each other. I told you again when the PLANTs signed the peace treaty, even though it was over. She's only _part_ of why I did everything I did. But she's the big part; she's what reminds me that I know better now."

Yzak made a tisking sound and turned his head. He should have predicted the blonde would come up with some half-baked excuse. Then the Buster pilot said something that rather surprised him.

"Do you regret it?"

Yzak stared and remained mute.

Dearka sighed. "Well, whether you do or not, it can't be helped. I care about her."

"Then why…" he'd opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it at the last second. Let _Elsman_ bring it up, assuming he even had the gall. For now, Yzak would have to be content with the answer he'd been given. After all, it wasn't like he actually _cared_ about what went on between them anymore. Any affection they'd once shared was buried in the past, and he'd be damned before he'd be the one to bring it floating to the surface.

"But you," the tanned boy joshed as he stood to throw the glass pieces in the trash, "When are _you_ going to find yourself a girlfriend, that's what I wanna know." Then he winked.

The Duel pilot felt his cheeks burn, and he sprung to his feet. "Bastard. That's none of your business!" But he could already tell the unabashed Coordinator had beaten him.

"Just like I thought," Dearka teased, "You came up dry again, didn't you? All those chicks in the park everyday and you've had no luck whatsoever…"

"I'll kill you, Elsman."

"Haven't heard _that_ threat for a while."

"Just shut up and help me pick up this mess."

The blonde watched him with a contented grin, leaning against the doorframe with his hands on his hips. "Do you want to know why I kissed you?"

Yzak froze. Somehow he'd feared their conversation would come to this, and he had no desire to face the end results. Judging by the pitfall in his stomach, however, he couldn't avoid the confrontation.

"Not really," he answered as casually as possible.

Dearka blew out a disbelieving puff of air before fixing him with a lopsided grin. "You're cute when you lie."

"Quit fucking around, Elsman." The silver-haired youth could tell he'd startled his friend with the sudden burst of hostility, but he felt no remorse.

"Relax," the Buster pilot commanded easily, smoothing back his hair as he spoke. "I didn't mean anything serious. I just missed remembering what it was like. Besides, you know I can't resist you most of the time."

Yzak stood with inhuman speed and tossed his head angrily. "I'm glad you had your fun," he spat. "And just so you know, you're completely despicable." His head pounded with the makings of a vengeful headache.

"Huh? Wait, Yzak—"

"The way you go on about her and still have the stomach to toy around with me… It's disgusting. Get yourself under control." He couldn't determine where the sensible words had stemmed from. Yzak was not one to think rationally when he got upset. Then again, he wasn't even sure it was anger he was feeling.

Dearka's smirk faded from his face. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that, Yzak. I'm sorry."

"Just do me a favor and leave. You've helped me enough." Without warning his eyes were drawn to the distant kitchen. Miriallia Haww looked at them both hesitantly, before plucking up the courage to speak.

"Um. I got halfway there when I remembered the store was closed. It's Sunday. I'm sorry I couldn't get the tape."

Dearka and Yzak exchanged glances. Then the blonde cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"No worries, Mir. We'll just head back to the apartment. Yzak can handle the rest on his own."

The silver-haired mobile suit pilot muttered a cold, parting word and watched the couple disappear into the hallway.


	5. Promise

Miriallia didn't tell Dearka how much of the conversation between he and Yzak she had witnessed. He didn't ask. They made their way back to the apartment in silence.

When the door shut, the blonde bombarded her with a tumble of harried words. "Miriallia, if you heard any of that… I'll explain if you want. I promise you it's not what it sounded like."

She studied him. He looked nervous, as if she might lash out and strike him. The lively Natural was far from angry. She thought for a moment that perhaps she should be, but the awkwardness of the situation had given her an opening to discuss what she hadn't been able to bring up on their lunch date. She wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

"I'm not upset. I don't want you to explain. All I want you to do is tell me what you told Yzak in more detail. Why'd you kiss him?" There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it.

Dearka's mouth dropped open. "You really don't care that much at all, do you?"

She tisked and wagged her finger in front of his face. "Wrong. I do, but I'm giving you a chance to make a decent excuse before I fly off the handle. Don't blow it."

"You surprise me more and more everyday, Ms. Haww." He collapsed into a stray armchair and pulled her down into his lap. "Did you forget that I had large amounts of alcohol in my system?"

She pretended to consider his statement. "That doesn't mean a thing. Strike one."

For a moment he was stunned. Then his face lit up with a fiendish grin.

"Okay. When Kira's foot got in the way, we fell and my lips accidentally landed on top of his." He was playing with her.

"Not very funny, buster. Strike two."

He threw his hands up in a sign of surrender. "You got me. You want the truth?"

She turned around on his lap and frowned. "Of course."

"Well, all right then. Take a look at him yourself and tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."

She practically slipped off the chair. "Dearka Elsman," she cried, "Are you telling me it was simply a case of terrible control in the presence of a very attractive person?"

It was the blonde's turn to frown. "Very attractive?"

"Er, not as attractive as you, of course," she covered as swiftly as she could. But he brushed the comment aside with a wave of his hand.

"That's all it was, Mir. I know I get out of hand, but sometimes he just looks so—"

"I get it! Enough," she cut him off by clamping both hands over his mouth. His honesty surprised her. Then again, she ought to have expected it. It was all she could do to keep her boyfriend from commenting on the body of every girl he saw. That the habit would transfer to his best friend should not have come as a shock. As much as she disliked him, the silver-haired male _did_ have his handsome features, and she resolved to let the incident go. Now that she knew it was just another case of Dearka being extra libidinous, she could put it behind her.

He removed her hands from his mouth and gently kissed her palms. "Don't brush it off so lightly," he said, reading her facial expressions like an open book. "You were right to have suspicions. He and I were close, closer than I've ever been to anyone."

The brunette felt her stomach twist into a knot.

"I'll be the first to admit that it was hard letting him go, but I do intend to keep it that way. I'm trying hard to forget about him for your sake, Mir."

Her lids dropped and she focused on the bright pattern of her sundress. "Then it _is_ that you have feelings for him."

He lifted her chin and looked her straight in the eye. "Not like you think. It's just… lust. Just lust."

Her head was reeling. The explanation didn't make sense. If Yzak was his best friend, that meant he cared for him. And if he felt lust as well… It seemed a dangerous combination. But Miriallia also knew that he deeply cared about her. He'd told her so, many times, and the blonde would never lie. His sincerity and straightforwardness were things she had always admired, and she'd keep her faith in him now. But one thing nagged at her like acid eating away at sheet metal. Wasn't she enough for him? Wasn't he satisfied with everything she had to give?

He must have seen the conflict on her face, because he pulled her forward and melded their lips together. Her eyelids flickered and finally drifted shut, and the tension seeped out of her shoulders as the familiar sensation coursed through her and made her weak with pleasure. When he released her, she rested her brow on his shoulder and breathed a long, low sigh.

"I understand what you're saying Dearka, but…" she trailed off. She couldn't bring herself to finish her own phrase.

"You don't want to get left alone again."

Her head snapped up in time to catch the serious look that crossed his features. And at once she found herself thinking of the one person she'd been striving to forget.

_Tolle_. The name sent wracking bolts down her spine. It seared the inside of her head. It froze her limbs and cut off the oxygen to her lungs. He'd meant the world to her. He'd been her solid foundation when the war had swept them up into a whirlwind of self-doubt and bloodshed. And then he'd been taken away. It was true she had Dearka, but should _he_ ever leave as well…

The Buster pilot was quick to sweep her into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her hair and murmured a few soothing words.

"It's all right, Mir. He's at peace now. And nothing will happen to make _me_ leave." He seemed to consider his own statement. "Unless you want me to," he added to lighten the mood.

She felt the hot sting of the beginnings of tears. "Why would I want you to?" She quickly rubbed a hand across her eyes and sniffed. "You promise me you won't go anywhere?" She hated herself for sounding so dependent, cursed herself for her own weakness even as she waited for his reply.

"I won't. I promise."

Her voice trembled. "Good." Then she giggled just a little. "Now I know what you meant about Yzak," she informed him. "We're really the same, you and I. Even though he isn't with me any more, a part of me still holds on."

Dearka grinned. "Then you understand." He grabbed her around the waist. "Now as long as you're sitting on me, let me tell you something." He lifted her from the armchair and deposited her on the sofa, where she plunked, laughing in relief.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"You'll find out." His scandalous smile told her she was in for something sinfully wicked.

He set to work on the bare skin of her neck, sucking lightly until she shivered with delight. Her hands closed automatically around his shoulders, and her grip tightened when he made his way slowly down her chest, following the gentle curve of her collar until the material barred him from moving on. He licked a wet trail back up to her ear before he slid one strap down her shoulder and kissed her there as well. Miriallia felt her breathing quicken.

"Dearka," she began to moan, but he laid her back on the cushions and sealed her mouth closed with a fiery kiss. His tongue dove into the cavern of her mouth, and she shuddered in ecstasy while his free hand slid up the bottom of her sundress and traced erotic patterns on her upper thigh. A warm sensation was beginning to form between her legs, and she doubted she could handle much more of his tantalizing presence without giving herself over to him entirely.

He settled his hips atop hers and pushed the strap of her dress down the rest of the way to expose the top half of her chest, where he planted a single, steaming kiss with his rose-petal lips.

"Don't stop," she begged him, hugging his muscled body close.

He hesitated anyway. "I want you to know something first." He waited for her to meet his violet gaze before continuing. "No matter how much of an ass I am or how I joke around, I love you. You know that, right?"

His sudden words caused her to halt. She'd never particularly enjoyed hearing that three-word phrase. In fact, she'd decided it sounded false and laced with unnecessary amounts of sugar. She'd never used the words with anyone other than her own parents, not even with Tolle. Mir had always been the girl to deem the practice trite and worthless. Yet for some reason, flowing from Dearka's cherished lips, the words sounded positively delicious.

"Me too," she said in low murmur, and she felt him writhe above her in glee. She moved to entwine their legs as he kissed her neck again, leaving a blooming red spot in his wake.

"ELSMAN!"

Miriallia let out a tiny cry and opened her eyes. Dearka was so startled that he jumped clean off her and slammed his knee into the coffee table in the process, cursing loudly in the aftermath. The Natural scrambled to pull down the hem of her sundress, but Yzak Jule had already seen all there was to see, and he did not look pleased. It was with utter horror that Miriallia realized his murderous gaze was pinned on her.

His face was purple with rage. "You left _this_ in my apartment room," he practically shouted, thrusting her checkered handbag at her as she lay sprawled on the couch.

"Y-Yzak," Dearka appeared completely baffled, not to mention slightly pink with embarrassment. The Natural was sure it was nothing compared to the deep hue of her own burning face.

"Shut up, Elsman," the silver-haired youth screeched, and Miriallia feared his wrath for the first time in her life. "I don't even want to hear you say a word! You left your door wide open like an idiot, and I ended up walking in on…" He let the words die out, his chest heaving with exertion, a sickened tinge of an unnatural color plastering his delicate features.

Mir exchanged glances with her boyfriend worriedly. She specifically recalled closing the door after them on their return journey.

"I closed the door when we got back, Yzak." Dearka was calm despite his friend's outburst.

"I don't care what kind of fucking excuses you have," the Duel pilot seethed. Mir noted gratefully that his face had almost returned to its natural pallor.

Dearka ignored the remark and sat down on a chair, crossing his legs neatly and lacing his fingers behind his head. "So does your little visit mean you've cleaned up your apartment, or do you still need our help?"

Miriallia wished he hadn't said it with such a cool, uncaring monotone.

"Oh no," Yzak scoffed, "By all means, please continue your disgusting display." He whirled on his heels and stormed to the door, slamming it shut behind him with a force that made it quiver in its frame.

Dearka let out a long sigh, and Mir stood and brushed herself off. Then she glanced at the wall clock, which read quarter past five.

"I think I'm going to take a shower."

_A/N: Gah. The Silver Sole Alchemist is really bad at writing slightly dirty het scenes (which is why she never does it). She apologizes and promises you much boy-love in the next chapter to make up for the wretchedness. And she promises also not to speak anymore in the third person._


	6. Blur of Motion

The Natural and former Archangel CIC stationed herself under the flow of fat droplets and tried to clear her head beneath the cascading water. Any other day, Dearka might have joined her, but he'd been just as unnerved by the sudden intrusion as she had. Yzak was mighty scary, but then again, what if it had been _her_ walking in on, say, Kira and Flay? She gagged at the thought. Perhaps the pale Coordinator was fair in his tantrum.

She ventured from Dearka's bathroom with a towel around her sopping hair in time to see him flick off the news. She discarded it before making her way to where he was sitting on the sofa.

"What's up?" she asked, tilting her head toward the now silent television.

"The Blue Cosmos made an attack on the police station right around the time we left the park this afternoon," the blonde informed her over the rim of his glass. "The chief of police is a Coordinator." He offered her a sip of the drink, but she declined.

"I've got to leave soon," she said. "And I can't believe those horrible people have gotten so out of hand. We were lucky." She glanced toward the door when a loud knock reverberated through the household.

Dearka groaned and pulled himself off the cushions. "Come on in," he called, giving his girlfriend a quick hug goodbye as he walked her to the door that creaked open.

Yzak's eyes narrowed the moment he realized the two were still together. For crying out loud, hadn't she _left_ yet?

"Relax," Miriallia joked, noticing the sour look that adorned his features. "I'm going." She turned to the Buster pilot and threw him one of the winks he so often bestowed upon her. "You two boys have fun. I'll see you later." With that she was out the door.

Yzak sagged in relief, wondering why the mere sight of the Natural got him so worked up. Then Dearka clapped a hand onto his shoulder, and he immediately went on his guard.

"You heard the girl," the tanned male quipped, "Let's have us some fun."

"I'm not here to banter, Elsman." The pale youth struggled to keep his voice calm. "Our landlady apparently had the urge to see us." He didn't bother hiding his extreme distaste as he brushed the offending hand from his shoulder. Without a word he took off for the room down the hall, dreading the untimely meeting. He had no desire to be near Dearka, nor did he wish to be scolded for disturbing other occupants with his earlier outburst.

Dearka rubbed the back of his neck and followed. "Why do I get the feeling we're in trouble?"

Yzak only snorted. "Because _you_ probably are, you dolt." Despite the biting tone with which he spoke, the silver-haired ZAFT soldier felt uncharacteristically calm. His skin was awash with a cool, sweet sensation, and he felt that he could finally breathe. He wondered if it was because the Natural was finally gone. Then he decided it was merely the draft in the hallway.

"Are you all right?" the blonde asked without warning, and the Duel pilot's heart leapt to his throat.

"I'm fine," he barked. "Quit being an idiot." They'd reached the landlady's door. He stretched out a hand and pounded on its polished surface. It swung inward and they were admitted by an elderly woman with frizzy grey hair.

"Mrs. Renton," Dearka beamed, shaking her hand as they entered, "You look lovely as always."

Yzak resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was all he could do to suppress his gag reflex. Every time they came, Dearka fed her the same lines. Every time they came she believed him.

"It's nice to see you boys," she smiled, and her dentures gleamed. She motioned for them to sit down at the table, and Yzak collapsed into a chair, uninterested. His hand met the side of his face as he rested one elbow on the table. He was automatically bored. For his own sake, he prayed that Dearka would make it quick and refrain from engaging the woman in pointless chitchat.

"I won't keep you two long," she said, and Yzak's ears perked up at the announcement. "Dearka, sweetheart — I'd heard from our dear Yzak that you were busy earlier when I was thinking of calling."

The Buster pilot glared daggers at him, and the pale youth returned the look with a shameless sneer of triumph.

"I wanted to know how you've been getting along in your apartment," she went on, oblivious to the exchange that had just taken place. "Including Yzak, there have been numerous complaints about break-ins and vandalism. Are you making out okay?"

"Just fine," the blonde responded curtly, still riled from the sight of the sinuous curve that had graced Yzak's lips.

"I wanted to warn you to double lock your door tonight, because some of the residents have had their main locks completely stripped."

Yzak tapped his foot on the floor. His patience was at its end, as he'd already sat through her entire speech once. To top matters off, after witnessing the heated passion between Dearka and his twittering girlfriend he'd gone out for a long walk. Ergo, his apartment was still in the same condition as earlier and he hadn't tidied it up.

"His locks were stripped as well, while he was out," Mrs. Renton was saying, and it was with a start that Yzak realized she was talking about him.

"Is that so?" Dearka mused upon hearing the news. "He didn't mention it."

The pale mobile suit pilot let out a low sound of disgust. "I don't see you in an apron, Elsman. Have you promoted yourself to the rank of my mother?"

"No offense, Yzak, but I can't see your mother in an apron in the first place."

The silver-haired youth had to use all his energy to keep himself from striking the daring bastard.

"How _is_ Ms. Ezalia Jule these days?" The elderly woman inquired, picking at a spot on her flowered dress.

"Get to the point already," Yzak commanded, utterly baffled by her unexplained addiction to small talk in the face of more important matters.

She brought a hand to her mouth and let out a laugh that turned into a hacking cough. "Oh, that's all, dears," she clarified. "The only other thing I wanted to know was if Dearka met his friend all right. He couldn't seem to remember just which room you were in."

The blonde lifted an eyebrow. "Someone came by looking for me?" Yzak noted the confusion that emanated from him and decided that his companion honestly knew nothing. At once his own suspicions were aroused, and he listened in.

"Yes, dear. A man described you and asked where you lived. Said he'd met you today at the park."

Yzak straightened as the color drained from his best friend's face. It didn't take him long to piece together the evidence. The blonde had told him about the incident at the park, and he didn't doubt the man Mrs. Renton referred to was the same one that had harassed he and the Haww girl then. He cursed his own stupidity, and then cursed himself again for not thinking of the possibility sooner.

"Did you tell him the apartment number?" he demanded, fear growing in the pit of his stomach even as the woman opened her mouth to answer.

"Well of course. He seemed respectable."

The pale Coordinator slapped a palm to his forehead and swore. He didn't need to look at Dearka to know that _he_ had figured it out as well.

The blonde shivered. "That's why my door was open," he whispered. "That guy tried to get in, but I was home."

"Was I wrong to tell him?" Mrs. Renton asked with concern. Yzak was convinced he felt his brain cells depleting — a direct result of occupying the same space as such a stupid female.

He sprung up from his chair and seized Dearka by the wrist. "We need to get going," he growled, tugging at the tanned male until he began to budge. "We'll let you know if anything else happens."

"Yes dear, and we'll get that window of yours fixed."

The door slammed behind them, and Yzak dragged his fellow Coordinator down the hall. "That was the most useless conversation I've ever had," he frothed, storming past his own door and back to Dearka's. The blonde burst out laughing like mad, and Yzak skidded to a halt.

"Do you really care that much?" the Buster pilot asked. "I'm fine, you know. He must have left after he realized that Mir and I were in there. At least he didn't get as big a shock as you did." The laughter continued until Yzak felt his head would explode.

"Fine, you bastard," he retaliated, "See if I care next time you get yourself into trouble with Blue Cosmos." The laughter stopped, and suddenly he felt very exposed. Dearka was watching him attentively. He wished his best friend's eyes weren't quite so riveting.

"Are you going to hold onto me forever?" the blonde asked quietly.

Yzak dropped the other male's wrist as if it were poisonous, sealing his thin lips shut. The hallway felt too small. The temperature in the little area became unbearable. He squinted his eyes shut. What the hell was wrong with him? In a last attempt to regain his senses, he reopened his icy eyes and stared the opposite boy down.

"My apartment doesn't lock and there's a gaping hole in my bedroom wall," he broadcasted. "I'm staying with you."

Dearka looked faintly amused. "Is that so? Do you think that's wise?"

"Don't fucking patronize me," he seethed.

The blonde opened his door and went in, ignoring the light switch as he threw his keys on the kitchen counter. "I just didn't know if you'd be able to handle it. Us in here together."

It was the last straw. Yzak snatched him by the collar and backed him against the table, no longer sure if he had the control to keep from throttling the caustic Buster pilot.

"What's the matter with you?" he exploded, yelling in the other male's face. "Are you purposely trying to tempt me, or are you just such an asshole that you don't even realize what you're doing?" The second the tirade had left his mouth, he wished he could have taken it back. His insides turned to ice, and the blonde's collar slipped free from his weakened grasp. His entire body went immobile, rigid with shock.

Dearka, much to Yzak's astonishment, had gone quite serious as well. "You're saying you…"

"Sh-shut up," the paler male choked out. "I haven't admitted to anything."

"Yzak," the tanned Coordinator reached out slowly and ran his fingers hesitantly through his silken strands of hair. "Are you jealous?"

The Duel pilot was at a temporary loss. Dearka wasn't trying to provoke him. He could plainly see the blonde was just as jarred and confused as he was. A second look told him the opposite pilot wasn't even aware of what he was doing with his hands. One was still running aimlessly through his silver hair. The other had settled on his waist. It was then that the pale Coordinator realized just how close they had ended up during his colorful explosion. The words sunk into his consciousness, and one stood out over the rest of the blur. _Jealous_. His heart was beating a furious tattoo, attempting to fly from his chest. Dearka was so close to him, so close, and yet the word made him boil.

He shoved the blonde away from him. "Jealous, Elsman? _Jealous_? Of you and her?" He'd fully intended to deny it, but for some reason, the words wouldn't come. He was floundering in the dark. The darkness of his mind coupled with the darkness of the room was enough to make him want to scream, but he stayed silent.

Molten tension flew between them. "Shit," Dearka cursed aloud, after a few painful moments had passed. The tanned pilot seized him around the waist faster than light and pressed their lips together, hard.

His body was on fire. Yzak couldn't control himself any longer. Christ, the sensation felt so good. He let Dearka's hands explore his back, he let those precious fingers rake through his shining hair. He pressed their bodies against each other, feeling the hard, muscled abdomen beneath the blonde's thin T-shirt, and he shivered with uncovered passion as their tongues mingled. He wanted nothing more at that precise moment, nothing more than to stay like that and to feel the rise and fall of Dearka's chest as his breathing grew ragged against his mouth. He was backed against the coffee table, he was nearly at the couch. He wanted it; he wanted it all.

"Tell me you've been jealous, Yzak." The husky whisper sent him into a lust-ridden frenzy.

A few more feet. If his body would only cooperate and let him sink back a few more feet, onto the cushions in Dearka's arms, he'd be satisfied. But the voice in the back of his mind screamed out for it to stop, even as he felt the yearning in Dearka's grip. He was only hurting himself. He broke free of the harried embrace, struggled to move himself out of the danger zone.

"We have to stop, Dearka," he managed to whisper, cursing his own stupidity as he did so. "There's no way I've been jealous."

The Buster pilot remained where he was. "How am I supposed to believe you after that?"

"Don't excite yourself," he spat, closing his eyes to the dizzying whirlwind he felt overtake him. "It's just like what you said before. I wanted to remember how it felt, that's all. Don't trick yourself into thinking I still care, because I don't." He had to get out before he made any more stupid mistakes. Had to escape from the sight of the blonde's tantalizing silhouette in the dark.

He made for the door, deciding that lock or no lock, his own apartment was a far better choice for his sleeping quarters. He left without a word, but he heard Dearka curse quietly as he shut the door behind him.


	7. His Jealousy

Yzak Jule had barely slept. He cinched his watery eyes shut as he trekked past the mirror above the sink, making quickly for the shower. Avoiding his own reflection had been a habit ever since the Strike had scarred him, and now he avoided it to keep himself from noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes. He wondered why he even left the hapless piece of glass hanging there at all. Suddenly he had the urge to smash it.

He focused instead on switching on the showerhead. Then he switched it back off. He'd taken a shower once already, after returning from Dearka's apartment. He didn't need another.

_Dearka's apartment_. Oh, just brilliant. He'd managed to forget for one sliver of an instant, but it was back again, plaguing him like a horde of locusts.

"Arrgh!" He tore from the bathroom and trudged to his refrigerator, downing an angry can of soda in less than a minute. Then he collapsed onto a stray chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Why, Dearka?" he demanded of the palms that smothered his face, "What are you trying to tell me? Why in _hell_ did you have to do that?" Now he'd picked up the habit of talking to himself. He couldn't tell if it was lack of sleep, or if it simply felt more soothing to speak the fretted words aloud. Either way, he needed to sort himself out.

In any case, there was no denying his feelings any longer. If last night was proof of anything, it proved that he was indeed jealous of Dearka and his girlfriend. All it had taken was those lips against his, and he'd lost every inch of his resolve. All protective illusions had been shattered. As much as the pale youth would rather dive back into the throngs of battle, he was forced to acknowledge his returning sentiments instead. He wanted the blonde Coordinator — badly.

He sighed. There was nothing to be done. It was a new challenge, that's all it was; something more to fight against. Then Yzak wondered if there was ever anything he was _not_ fighting against. He brushed the idea aside. No matter what his feelings were, he would not allow them to take root. He knew what was right. He would not be responsible for the destruction of the Buster pilot's relationship with the Natural. It was probably better, anyhow. That way he could forget, and maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.

But Dearka's message was still lost on him. The words floated painfully through his head. _"Tell me you've been jealous, Yzak."_ Did Dearka _want_ him to be jealous? It had been almost as if the tanned male had _needed_ him there, in the darkness of the room.

He bit his lip and struggled with the thin notion. "Why do you depend on me so much, Dearka?" The confusion was driving him mad.

"You two depend on each other equally," a female voice cut into his cramped thoughts from the doorway. "And he still does need you, no matter what you may think." The voice sounded two-parts sour.

"If he needs me," he growled, "Then why is he with you?" It was Miriallia. His mind was too fuzzy to care. It was only when he looked up to meet her steady gaze that he remembered his door didn't lock.

She didn't answer, but entered and shut the useless barrier behind her. "I was on my way to his apartment room, but your door had crept open and I heard you." She chewed her bottom lip. "Is everything all right?"

At once the silver-haired soldier felt his skin boiling with rage. "No, Haww, everything is not. But let me assure you, it's none of your business." He didn't like her sitting there, at his kitchen table. He didn't like to think that _she_ was the one that Dearka cared for more.

"You should stop fretting," she advised, ignoring his rising anger. "He said he loves me, and I believe him. I feel the same way for him. But that doesn't mean that there isn't a place for you, too. Why don't you get that?" She stared at him, but he didn't respond, so she stood up and made for the door.

"What I want to know," Yzak began, shoving aside his chair and tailing her into the hall, "Is just what's so great about you that makes him go all gah-gah, Haww." His fury was reaching its peak point. He knew he ought to let her be, but she'd dared to storm his house and lecture him on ethics. He had a feeling that something more complicated was driving him, but he was too riled to pay it any heed.

"Why are _you_ so damn special?" He glared at her with frozen eyes of ice.

Her patience seemed to snap. "I ask myself the same thing about you," she gritted, recalling how her boyfriend's attitude changed every time the pale Coordinator was mentioned. "He has me, so why does he still need to set himself after his best friend?" She sounded horrifically like a jealous girlfriend. She hadn't meant to fall into that pathetic role, but Yzak was frustrating her.

The next words out of her mouth sounded foreign to her own ears. "You don't even have the power to satisfy him in the ways I can." That was when she knew she'd crossed some sort of line. His brow darkened significantly, and he looked like a demon in the dim light of the bare bulbs. He lunged forward and seized her by the wrists, boxing her in with his slender body on one side and the thin plaster surface of the wall behind her on the other. His thigh was pressed between her legs.

"If I wanted to, Haww, I could bang you all the way up this wall." His deep blue eyes took in the shock on her face when she gasped. "You'd be screaming my name in no time flat."

It didn't take long for her to regain her previous composure. "But you wouldn't dare try it," she persisted, "Because you know you lack the skill to pull off that kind of feat." Immediately she clamped her mouth shut.

Why had she said that? The words had escaped her in one swift flutter, a caged bird set loose. She knew the verbal attack would only fuel his competitive streak. The remark may as well have been a challenge to a deadly duel. Or an invitation for him to try his luck.

"I wouldn't count on that if I were you," came his low response as he pressed himself harder against her, the cruel twist of a sneer engulfing his lips. "I may have more skill than you could ever imagine." Suddenly he froze, a light of dawning comprehension flickering in his icy eyes. He drew back abruptly, though still maintaining the rough grip on one wrist.

At once, she saw that he knew. Miriallia wrenched her arm away, horrified beyond words. He had deciphered the muddled meaning behind her response even before she herself had realized its subtle significance. She blanched, sickened at the weakness of her own body, its lack of control, its quick reaction to the pressure of the attractive figure forced against her. How had she allowed herself to fall so easily into such an intimate mindset?

"Oh, that's precious, Haww," she heard Yzak's wry snigger moments later as she kept her eyes trained carefully on the floor, "But I have no interest in someone like you."

She grimaced. "You bastard," she gritted through her teeth, "It's not what you think."

His cool blue eyes narrowed. "I find that hard to believe. Do Dearka a favor and quit before you say something that's going to hurt him."

Upon the mention of Dearka, Mir brought a hand to her mouth and squinted her eyes shut, leaning one shoulder against the wall for support as she attempted to collect herself. What had she just begun? Her heart thundered at the mention of her boyfriend's name, and she bit back a wild shout. She was positive she loved him. She had not been lying when she told him so. Then why?

She heard Yzak's light footsteps as he snorted in contempt and pivoted to walk away. Then she spoke.

"He's different around you," she whispered hoarsely, utterly terrorized by her own admittance of the fact. "And it's not hard to see how you both bring out certain qualities in each other."

"And what the hell does that mean?" He had stopped at the end of the hall.

She paused at first. "I don't know."

The silver-headed boy took a breath and clenched his fists before turning his back on her once more. "I could say the same thing about you, Haww. I'll never understand what he sees in you. Don't make any more mistakes."

_A/N: Apologies for the brevity of this chapter. It was short, but sweet, I think. Poor Miriallia has no idea what's happening to her. Both she and Yzak are trying hard to understand their own feelings. And with Mir so frustrated, could she help but fall right into Yzak's trap that he wove for her? I'd get turned on too if it was ME in her position. Har har. _

_But now it looks like they're in some trouble, because Mir made herself seem unreliable. Yzak seems to be the only one with morals at this point, haha. But poor Mir has them, she's just confused! Awwww. I wonder what'll happen. I hope I'm doing okay with this._


	8. Nagging Feeling

Yzak didn't know why he'd submitted to such low tactics. Seducing the enemy was not what he had originally planned. It had been cruel, far crueler than anything he'd considered himself previously capable of. His stomach felt queasy and his head reeled. Just what was it about that damned girl that got him so upset? It had not been part of his intentions to rustle her into such a state, and yet he'd done so with barely a second thought. Exactly where the strategic move was supposed to get him, he hadn't a clue.

Perhaps what bothered him was that fact that he really hadn't gotten anywhere. With a low grunt, he concluded that what he'd truly wanted was to frighten her. Yet, she had been far from afraid of him. Now he felt uneasy because his confrontation had brought about a completely different result than the one he'd initially expected. Yzak cursed inwardly, examining the circular path he appeared to be traveling. He hadn't solved a thing.

But it could still be dealt with.

He flung the door to his bedroom open, stalking inside with a new air of confidence. He could play her game and still win. Defeating her entirely was not what he wanted, however. He merely wanted respite from the ceaseless drama. And he would have it. He'd have it or he'd fight until he—

Yzak whirled. His bedroom door had slammed without warning.

He himself had not closed it.

"You took advantage of her." The voice was unmistakably that of Dearka.

"I'm not interested in women like her. You should know that by now," Yzak replied dismissively, barely taking a beat to acknowledge his best friend's sudden presence. He strode casually to the window and drew the curtains closed. The intrusive rays of sunlight streaming through the gaping hole put him on edge.

Dearka still hadn't shifted from his spot beside the door. "I know you're not interested in _women_, period."

"Fuck off." He hadn't meant to say it. The defensive response had been one born of instinct.

"Not until you tell me why you'd do such a thing, Yzak."

The silver-haired Coordinator spun around, grinding his teeth together in an outrage. "It's so obvious, Elsman, so painfully obvious that she can't even _function_ without her dear boyfriend there to rescue her." His lips curled into a mocking sneer. "It figures she would have gone straight to you."

The blonde took a menacing step into the room. "She didn't come running to me. I heard you arguing in the hall from the next room over."

Yzak strove to keep his features passive as the tanned boy scanned his face. "Good for her, then. She isn't as mindless as I thought."

At that, Dearka began to simmer. "What do you have against her, Yzak?" He raised his voice when he didn't receive an answer. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd pull a stunt as shameless as that. At least give me an explanation."

Yzak exploded with a contemptuous snort. "Hah! Shameless? What about you, the way you treat her like a precious object and cater to her every desire, or the way you always seem to go soft whenever you're around her? It's despicable! I don't see why anyone would allow themselves to fall prey to that kind of lunacy!"

"I love her, Yzak."

His insides seemed to curl, but the irate pilot of the Duel managed to maintain a screen of outward calm. "You're only fooling yourself, Elsman," he growled aloud.

"If I didn't know any better," Dearka mused, his violet eyes narrowing in suspicion, "I'd say for sure now that you were jealous."

"Idiot!" Yzak burst out the moment the sentence had left his friend's mouth. "Don't assume you know everything I'm thinking. You don't know anything anymore, because you're always mooning over that damned Natural. And you take her side without even thinking, whether it's right or wrong. You give her too much control over you! Why are you so blind to it?" By the time he had finished his outburst, he was astonished to find himself panting with exertion.

Dearka had crossed the room silently, and the two ZAFT pilots now stood face to face. Yzak tried hard to conceal the color that he felt rising to his cheeks upon noticing their sudden proximity, but to no avail. The blonde had already gripped his chin and was now moving forward to ensnare him in a mind-blowing kiss. Yzak trembled just slightly, failing in another vain attempt to quell the bolt of pleasure he could feel coursing through him like fiery liquor. His hands reached up to entangle themselves in the blonde's wavy locks, but he stopped himself just in time. Finally, Dearka pulled away, puzzled by Yzak's lack of response.

Little did the Buster pilot know, the pale boy was teetering on the brink of losing his control completely.

"You disgust me, Elsman," he gasped, backing up to put a foot or so of distance between them. "And to think that Haww believes you when you tell her you love her."

It happened incredibly fast. The next thing Yzak knew, he'd collided with his bedroom wall, his shoulders gripped roughly on either side by Dearka's strong, masculine hands. His ears were ringing from the force with which his head had cracked against the hard surface behind him, and he gasped as the opposite boy's grip tightened painfully.

"I do everything I can to defend you, Yzak!" The blonde was hollering now. "Why can't you see that? I have to defend _her_ from _your_ attacks as well, and I have to convince her to accept you despite your fucking temper. All I want is for both of you to get along, damn it! Why the hell can't you understand that?"

He couldn't breathe. Dearka now had both forearms pressed across his chest, holding him in place with a wild look of determination in his dark eyes.

"I just don't want to see you transformed into some love-sick lapdog that goes weak at the knees every time his mistress calls him." Yzak choked the words through clenched teeth, and to his relief, the opposite male released his hold. The silver-haired youth noted with displeasure, however, that he did not step back to allow him room for escape.

"That's selfish, Jule."

"Is it? Is it wrong to want you to stay the person you used to be? I liked you better that way." He watched as Dearka's eyes widened.

"Yzak. Nothing between us has changed."

"Everything has!" he shot before he could think to keep his tone neutral. "You've gone soft. You're weak. You're being too gentle with a monster that's going to turn around and bite you."

Dearka's voice softened significantly. "No," he said, "If anything, it's _you_ I'm too gentle with…"

Yzak's heartbeat sped up and he allowed his eyes to flicker shut, savoring the sensation of the blonde's silken lips against the exposed flesh of his neck. This time, he could not repress the shudder of pleasure that jolted through him, and with a small sigh of defeat, he let the other boy continue, cursing himself even as he drifted into the seductive presence of his best friend and former lover.

"If you feel that way," he breathed, tilting his head to one side to allow the opposite pilot easier access to his tender skin, "Then why don't you take me right now? Like you used to."

"God damn it," the blonde groaned, lifting his chin and pulling away regretfully, "Don't tempt me, Yzak. You know I can't."

"This is exactly what I mean, Elsman," Yzak gritted, pushing the tanned youth away from him reluctantly. "You don't even know which one of us you want. Make up your friggen mind." Dearka was silent. "Haww doesn't deserve this. Neither do I."

The other boy blew a short puff of air out through his nose. "Are you saying that this is affecting you?" he asked. "That you really _are_ jealous and you can't stand seeing me with her?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Elsman. _I_ never said I loved you."

Dearka considered the blow with a frown. "Damn you, Yzak."

Yzak was puzzled, but he felt no remorse. "What?" he pried, "Are you actually feeling disappointed? After all that bullshit about loving Miriallia and wanting your best friend and your girlfriend to get along, you're telling me you _wanted_ me to admit that I miss you? Amusing, Elsman."

"Don't fucking push your luck, Yzak."

"Then figure out what you want, and in the meantime, go screw around with your god damned Natural girlfriend." The finality in his tone suggested he felt nothing but sheer disdain, but the burst of longing and misery he felt upon witnessing the betrayed look in his friend's violet eyes nearly proved to be his end. He forced the sensation back with an iron will.

"Get out of my bedroom," he ordered flatly, tossing aside a stray lock of silver hair with a cool grace that he had to work to maintain.

The door slammed shut with a bang, shivering in its frame as the blonde Buster pilot exited.


	9. Respite

Miriallia curled herself further into the corner of Dearka's couch, trembling. She didn't feel violated as much as outraged and deprived. The outrage was explicable, but not so much the latter sense. She'd wanted a chance to take out her anger, a chance to prove to Yzak that she had what it took to meet his challenge. In the hallway, she'd wanted to destroy him, prove to him that no one could satisfy her boyfriend better than she. He'd given her a way to do so. Then he'd called her out and made her realize just how naïve she'd been, and how unreliable. It was a stupid move on her part. He'd had the good sense to stop. She shouldn't have lost control.

Still, she knew the silver-haired pilot had been harboring the same twisted idea. He wouldn't have taunted her in such a seductive manner otherwise. Her guess was he hadn't meant to do it — his emotions, much like hers, had led him to oppose her in the only way he felt he could. They had both taken their insecurities, frustrations and fears and acted rashly upon them. Perhaps they weren't so different after all.

In any case, it was behind her now. The current question was how to handle the situation once Dearka returned. She hadn't asked him to confront Yzak, but she knew the pale youth would resent her for it despite that fact. She also knew that the silver-haired Duel pilot had lied about his feelings for the blonde, whether consciously or unconsciously. Yzak cared for Dearka. Dearka cared for Yzak. Where did that leave her?

She heard a door slam somewhere, and silently she wished the walls in the apartment complex weren't so thin. Not thirty seconds later, her boyfriend burst into the room.

"He doesn't understand anything!" Tanned fingers tugged at wild, golden hair in agitation. "Why can't he just accept things the way they are instead of trying to rationalize everything!"

Mir only stared. Yzak? _Rationalize?_ The Duel pilot's every action was so far from rational it was almost painful to admit. Finally she spoke up.

"You're the one that's trying too hard to rationalize this," she told him.

He turned around and blinked at her, gazing blankly as if he hadn't noticed her sullen presence when he'd first entered.

"It's clear that none of us are communicating properly." She waited for him to respond. He didn't. "Dearka."

His violet eyes seemed to come into focus, and he joined her wearily on the couch. He sank down as if a weight had gotten the better of him.

"What he did to you, Mir, I'm sorry." He set to cracking his knuckles, squinting his eyes shut in a merciful attempt to shut out his frustration.

She sighed. No use in pretending it was one-sided. "I was just as much at fault as he was." His eyes flickered open and he looked at her, disbelieving. "I provoked him when I shouldn't have."

The blonde was radiating confusion. "Why?" He didn't seem to be asking about her previous statement as much as begging for the all the world's mysteries to be explained. Still, she knew he had a concrete idea of what had taken place. He was altogether far too casual not to. If he wanted to recognize her conflict with Yzak and act on it, he would. If not, she'd let him assemble the pieces to build a solution of his own.

His warm arms encircled her waist, and he squeezed, tight. She could feel the open tension in his body as he hid his face in her hair and let out a long groan.

At once she got the feeling that matters were far more complicated than he was letting on. One fond look at his shaggy head on her shoulder told her she didn't care. He loved her. It was enough. She needed time to forget the complications, the deceit, the jealousy.

"Let's call Kira and the others," she said cheerfully, leaving him floundering comically as she hopped up from the sofa. "Let's all go to the park and play Frisbee. Invite Yzak, too. That guy could use a break."

The blonde looked as if he'd been smacked in the face by a raw slab of fish. "Wh-what?"

She winked. "You heard me. Come on." Her hand closed around the phone a little tighter than she'd expected despite her new calm, but she dialed Kira's number with ease.

"It's only ten thirty," Dearka observed, frowning as she waited for someone to pick up, "He's probably still sleeping, that lazy Strike bastard…" He seemed to have brightened, however.

"Hullo?" A drowsy voice crackled over the line. It didn't quite sound like Kira.

"Kira? It's Miriallia," she announced, motioning for Dearka to shush. He was in the background muttering excitedly.

"Is Lacus coming too?" the blonde wanted to know. "I still haven't gotten used to hanging out with a pop star. You know that song about the water and the—" He snapped his mouth shut when Mir cast him a dirty look.

"This is Athrun speaking," the voice on the other end was yawning now.

Mir's eyes flew wide. "A-Athrun? Then where's Kira?" Dearka burst out laughing when he witnessed her reaction.

"He's right here in his bed, why?"

"Um." She tried to keep her voice from shaking in surprise, while Dearka rolled over on the couch, eyes watering in his almighty glee. The Natural knew immediately that the unaware Justice pilot would never hear the end of the teasing that was sure to come. She almost pitied him.

"Well since you're there," she went on, "Dearka and I wanted to know if you and the others could spend some time with us today." First there was a pause. Then she thought she heard a mild curse.

"Dearka is with you?"

Mir glanced at the guffawing figure on the sofa and turned back to the phone, trying not to roll her eyes. "Yes."

"Tell him it's not what he thinks!"

"Too late, Zala," the blonde choked through his fit of giggles. The Buster pilot had heard him through the muffled receiver. "You and Yamato finally decided to mack it real good, didn't you?"

Athrun growled something unintelligible, demanding that she pass the phone to the offending blonde. She did so, wondering why she hadn't simply called Lacus or Cagalli.

Dearka placed the contraption to his ear with a wicked grin. "Just couldn't resist his sleek lines anymore, 'ey?" Mir watched as he held the phone at arms length to lessen the volume of the angry blue-head's explosion.

"It's not like that, okay?" The hollering traveled loud and clear over the line. Mir had never heard the collected youth so angry. "Kira and I are not like that. Give us a break. We've known each other since grade school."

It was obvious that Dearka knew he was antagonizing the azure-eyed Coordinator, but the look on his face said he couldn't resist one more stab.

"So because of that you get to sleep with him?"

Mir slapped a palm to her forehead.

"We were _not_ sleeping together!"

The Natural female swore she could hear his teeth grinding. "Athrun," she snatched the phone back and blocked her free ear, "Just get up and get over here." Then she placed the device back in its cradle.

"I don't know what to do with you," she sighed at the blonde, and her mouth wriggled slightly as she forced her giggles back.

He shrugged. "Let's go. We'll meet them there."

The park was a pad of green beneath the cobalt blue cover of the sky. Children squealed on their way down the slides while mothers frantically attempted to keep track of dropped bottles and extra band aids. A group of lively teens played baseball on the diamond. No place had ever been so peaceful during the war.

Miriallia flung out her hands and twirled in a circle with her eyes closed. Yzak shot her a repulsed glare, but she didn't care. At least he had agreed to come. The brightness of the day made her forget her previous worries. She was ready to start over, ready to be his friend instead of his enemy. She hoped the pale youth would do the same.

"Miriallia!"

She opened her eyes and smiled. "Cagalli," she greeted in return, as the blonde Princess of Orb marched over to meet them, Lacus at her heels.

"It's just lovely outside today," the pink-haired songstress twittered, waving sweetly to Yzak, who snorted and turned away. "But if you don't mind my asking, Miriallia, did anything happen when you spoke with Athrun on the phone? He doesn't seem to be in a good mood as of late. I can't seem to figure out the reason."

The young Natural felt the bead of sweat start to form on her forehead. "Oh really?" She glanced to where the former Justice pilot was approaching, Kira trailing at his side. Judging by the look on the slender brunette's face, Athrun had already voiced his discontent to his best friend. Neither looked pleased as they neared the group, and both fixed Dearka with smoldering glares.

She laughed nervously. "Eheh heh, I wonder what could have happened…"

Cagalli wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I'll get my sulking brother back to normal once I destroy him in a game of Frisbee." She grabbed hold of the disc Dearka had been carrying and took off for the open field, scooping up Athrun along the way. Lacus giggled before following suit with a baffled Kira.

"I'm not letting them start without me," Dearka exclaimed, setting out as well. "You two coming?"

No Blue Cosmos. Yzak was reluctantly accompanying them. They were all together. It was the perfect respite.

Miriallia beamed. "Wait for me."

_A/N: Haha, some Athrun/Kira jokes in there, sorry. I couldn't resist. Anyway, I put in this chapter because I felt I was being too hard on the characters lately. They deserved a break from the drama. But if you liked the drama, more is coming! Never fear. xP_


	10. New Direction

Yzak laid back on the springy grass and locked both hands behind his head. The sun scorched his lids, and he closed his eyes. He'd never been one for lounging in the sunlight, but at the moment the bright, burning sensation on his skin felt comforting. He was feeling uncharacteristically calm and collected, and damned be the person unfortunate enough to spoil his cool musings.

He'd given up on Frisbee. The game was childish and melodramatic. The Duel pilot slit one blue eye open to observe the status of the teams. Miriallia had sided with Athrun and Kira, while Dearka had chosen Lacus and Cagalli as his cohorts. It had been the blonde's idea to have the significant other's face each other, for "more amusement," as he had so eloquently put it. Yzak snorted. Then Cagalli had refused to side with her brother, and the teams had ended up as-is. It really was a nuisance of a sport.

The pale youth watched as Dearka snatched the colored disc from under Miriallia's nose, then lifted her by the waist and twirled her about in a taunting victory dance. Yzak smiled.

He imagined the sight of him grinning in such a situation would worry anyone under normal circumstances. But for once it didn't affect him. He'd had time to think while he reclined under the beams of sunlight, listening to the Princess of Orb scream over who'd taken the last point. His problems seemed infantile at best. The solution that had come to him had stricken him as rather simple.

He knew now that he still cared for Dearka. The blonde, on the other hand, was a jumble of mixed feelings. Any effort on Yzak's part to save his relationship with the Natural had gone to waste. The Buster pilot himself had spoiled its purity, for every time a destructive move had been made, _he_ had been the cause of it. If Dearka was going to put his girlfriend on the line for his own foolish reasons, so be it. Why should Yzak stick out his neck to protect something that was beyond his control? The pale youth had been rotting his insides worrying about it.

He'd finally concluded that the only thing to do was to let Dearka's sentiments run their course. The blonde would reach a conclusion of his own. He would let the tanned Coordinator do so. And he wouldn't deny _himself_ his own feelings either. He'd react to Dearka from now on as he felt fit. After all, why hold back?

Yzak's grin grew wider, and he felt his possessiveness take root and cling like a parasite.

"And what are you smiling about?" It was Dearka.

"Why the hell do you want to know?" No use letting the blonde figure out his new strategy just yet.

Dearka collapsed onto the grass beside him, yelling something to the others as they ran off to get drinks. His white T-shirt was clinging damply to his muscled torso, while stray beads of sweat ran smoothly down his brow. His breathing was slightly ragged, and the Duel pilot moved aside as the blonde flopped over on his back to mimic his earlier position.

The pale youth maintained his outer cool even as the opposite Coordinator settled down. Dearka looked attractive in his worn out state of exertion, and the silver-haired male felt pleasantly wicked in acknowledging it.

"Why didn't you go with them?" Yzak scoffed, narrowing his eyes to get a good view of the group that was rapidly fading into the distance.

"I didn't feel like it," came the casual reply, "And besides, you looked bored off you ass."

Yzak didn't even try to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "How kind of you to keep me company."

His best friend snorted. "What's with the sudden hostility?"

The silver-head was losing his patience. "Look at what's gone on between us in the past two days, Dearka, and _then_ ask me that stupid question." His blood boiled.

The tanned male seemed to consider. "I guess you're right." He frowned.

"You _guess_? Oh, that's just brilliant."

"Give me a break, Yzak."

"I don't see why I should do anything of the sort."

Dearka shifted until he was propped up on one elbow. Then he looked the Duel pilot in the eye. "Do you need me to explain what's been going on in my head?"

Yzak's responding laugh was bitter and insulting. "I'll have you know, Elsman, that I don't need you to _explain _a thing. You're careless and completely obvious. I know what's going on in your head, and the answer is nothing. If you were thinking at all, you wouldn't have confused yourself so disgustingly badly."

It was Dearka's turn to laugh. The laugh was long and deep, and when the offensive blonde had finished wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he faced Yzak with a condescending lift of a brow.

"I love it how you know me so well," he said, his violet eyes expressing a slight sense of defeat behind their protective twinkle.

Yzak hid a blush and shifted again onto his back. He knew this was the part where he often lost his control. He would not submit so easily this time.

"You're not the only one who's been doing some thinking," Dearka went on. "You've accepted things as they are and have decided to do as you see fit. Well, I've done the same, and I'm doing things how _I_ see fit."

Yzak sprang into a sitting position, livid. Somehow, despite all his scheming, the blonde had read him like a book. He felt like a sheet of stained glass, attempting to cloud himself with deceiving color, only to realize that he was still transparent enough to look through.

"Fuck you, Elsman," he spat vehemently at the uncaring boy on the ground, "You don't know the first thing I've been thinking."

"Wrong," Dearka shot just as heatedly. The harshness surprised Yzak. "If anything I know I'm right, because of the way you protested just now. It's so like you." The last sentence was bitter.

Yzak wondered for a moment if he'd been hurting Dearka as much as the blonde had been hurting him. Then he brushed the notion aside, a quick attempt at salvaging his own emotions. If he thought too hard now, it'd only come back to haunt him.

"You're not the only one allowed to come to conclusions, Yzak," Dearka said. "We're on the same page. There are circumstances that neither of us can change, and we just have to accept it. It can't be helped."

Funny. That's what Yzak himself had decided mere moments ago. But the decision wasn't supposed to work both ways. It was supposed to allow him to accept his feelings for Dearka and live without guilt, not open a space to allow the blonde to do the same. If Dearka felt the same about accepting circumstances and acting as he pleased despite them, that meant nothing would move forward. Dearka would still cling to the Natural girl. He'd still use Yzak whenever he felt inclined to do so. Suddenly the pale youth wanted to hit him.

Then the Buster pilot spoke and jolted the silver-haired male into the present. "Both of you," he mumbled, "Both of you make everything so complicated."

Yzak remained still, waiting. His urge to murder something was partially quelled.

"I want you both," Dearka stated, "But more than that, I want you to get along with each other."

"You want us both," Yzak repeated flatly. His companion didn't answer. "I thought so."

He had been right. He had always been right, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach. The silver-haired Duel pilot floundered.

"So that's it," he began, avoiding the other male's questioning violet gaze, "You honestly care about us both. And you're going to indulge yourself and go about it as you damn please, whether or not it hurts her or me, because you feel there's nothing else to be done?" He received no reply. Then he snapped. "You _bastard_!"

Dearka brought a hand to his aching cheek, with eyes that flew open in surprise. Yzak watched in satisfaction as the blonde rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, checking for broken teeth.

"Did you have to punch me?" the Buster pilot asked, calm despite the fact that he'd just been hit.

Yzak made an indifferent noise in the back of his throat. "You deserved every bit of that just now." He felt no sympathy.

"But you're the same as I am."

The Duel pilot growled. "Don't you dare compare the two of us, you worthless idiot."

Dearka did not appear to want to give up. "You've stopped caring about whether or not I have Miriallia, I know you have." Yzak was careful not to move, lest he betray himself. "So why isn't it okay for me to stop caring as well? Do you know how hard it is, Yzak, to plague myself with worries of who I should choose? In an ideal world, I would only care for one of you. But we know from the war that this is no perfect place. I can't deny what's fact. You're both important to me. So why can't I give myself the luxury of accepting that and acting in accordance?"

"It's different, you fool!" Yzak heaved; the explosion was unexpected even to him. "I can't take it! I can't stand seeing you bounce back and forth. _I_ don't care anymore if you deceive the stupid Natural who claims she loves you, but _you_ should." He was shaking with wrath.

"So you think I should make a choice."

"Of course!"

"Regardless of whom I choose?"

His muscles tightened. He didn't answer. He couldn't.

"You'd like it to be you, is that it?" There was something in his eyes that Yzak couldn't decipher. It appeared to be a mix of baffled amusement, or maybe it was tentative relief beneath the mask.

He didn't care. He let himself go numb with the sense of hopelessness he'd just been struck with. Without warning, Yzak narrowed his eyes of ice and hardened his disposition. He'd already revealed too much, and he knew he couldn't afford any more mistakes. He'd lost again in the twisted competition that was tearing him apart. Dearka always won.

"Stop toying with me," he hollered, drawing the attention of a group of girls that strode by on the sidewalk. They fixed him with nervous stares and hurried on their way. "Apparently it doesn't matter what I feel for you, as long as you can play your game. Well, I won't lose to you, Elsman!" He hauled the other male forward by the scruff of his T-shirt and stole his lips in a kiss he knew was far too rough.

The blonde was so stunned that he froze stiff. Yzak didn't bother to take his best friend's inaction into account. He wanted to dominate. He'd get his way, damn it all to hell. With his grip still tight on Dearka's damp clothing, he forced the other male's lips apart and inserted his tongue, exploring the warm cavern with little care for what was going on around him.

The tanned male trembled and could avoid the temptation no longer. With one swift motion, the blonde swept up the slight body above him and held him close. Yzak spread his palms flat against his adversary's chest and pushed him down to a lying position. And still he did not stop. He ravished the delicious body beneath him until he was sure his partner's lips were swollen and bruised, marked permanently by his passion and lust.

They'd been at it for nearly a full minute without stop, Yzak successfully maintaining control over the weakening male below him, when Dearka ceased responding. Without a word, he pushed the silver-haired pilot gently from him. His violet eyes were fixed on something over Yzak's left shoulder.

Yzak glanced behind him, royally annoyed by the interruption, only to notice the silhouettes of five looming figures in the blinding glare of the sun. When he focused his distracted vision, he realized the others had come back.


	11. Sacrifice

_A/N: I am SO sorry for the delay on this chapter. I really am, and I feel terrible for making everyone wait. Um… I was on vacation? Yeah right. More like my brain was on vacation… Anyway, I apologize if this bit isn't up to par with the other chapters. I'll try hard to get back into the groove. Eek, I'm so afraid of everyone's wrath…_

Miriallia was clinging weakly to Kira, her lemonade long forgotten. Lacus had averted her gaze from her spot at Kira's other side. Cagalli's face wrinkled, a mural of disgust and disapproval.

Athrun Zala was calm, but his face betrayed his anger as he spoke to Dearka. "And just what is it that you two are doing?"

Yzak sensed Dearka's hesitancy. The blonde tried his best to come up with a sardonic response from his prone spot. "I figured you and Yamato especially would know what we were up to, Zala. It must look vaguely familiar."

Kira gritted his teeth and cursed, but kept his protective hold on Miriallia. Athrun seized the guilty ZAFT soldier by the arm and hefted him forcibly to his feet.

"If Commander Le Creuset ever caught you at that," he whispered coolly in the Buster pilot's ear, "You would have lost your position." Then he pulled back and fixed his authoritative stare on his other former teammate.

Yzak felt his blood churn. "Is there a _problem_, Zala?" A fine time for his adversary to choose to discipline him. "We were _busy_." He had a feeling the blue-head was only taking action because he still felt responsible for his old teammates. He _had_ been their commander at one point, after all.

"Get up," the former Justice pilot commanded. "I'm going to—" But the rest of the threat never came. The blue-head stopped short, eyes bulging at the sight of the smoking bullet hole that had lodged itself into the tree by his cheek.

Yzak picked himself off the ground with amazing speed. Where had the shot come from? From the corner of his eye, he noticed Mirialla had recovered from her surprise and was tensing herself, already prepared for trouble. He followed the path of her angry gaze and found the culprit. A man in dark glasses was walking casually across the grass toward them.

"What does _he_ want?" Dearka was stark raving mad. He fixed his threatening glare coolly on the approaching figure.

Miriallia watched as her boyfriend trimly brushed himself off, his brow darkening. She glanced at Yzak, her nervousness growing as she realized the pale Coordinator looked on edge as well. If _Yzak_ couldn't anticipate Dearka's actions, then something was clearly boding ill. She scanned her mind for an explanation. Was he upset that she'd witnessed his recent actions? Was it the interruption itself that had irritated him? She looked again at the bullet lodged in the tree, and then back at the revolver in the nearing man's hand. Suddenly she couldn't think at all.

Athrun stammered a low warning to the Buster pilot, backing away from the tree trunk as if it were about to fall on him before narrowing his azure eyes and mirroring Dearka's wary stare. Yzak watched them both, then turned to the panicking Haww girl. One look told him it was clear that she'd never seen the blonde react so rashly either. Yzak resisted the urge to become frightened. Dearka was supposed to be the calm one in these types of situations, remaining in control until the end. A temper was rare.

The pale boy tried hard to forget that a day ago he'd caused Dearka to explode.

"You've got to be the loudest bunch of brats in the whole damned park," the stranger scoffed, keeping his weapon trained on them once he'd halted a few feet away. "It wasn't that hard to find you again."

"Again?" Kira echoed, shifting uncomfortably and looking from the man to his friends and back again.

Cagalli charged into the open like a pit bull and jabbed a finger at the intruder. "What the hell's the big idea?" she hollered. "You almost just killed him, you bastard! Look!" She jerked her head at the marred tree and then at Athrun, who was gaping at her in astonishment.

Yzak rolled his eyes, forgetting momentarily that he was in a rather unnerving situation. Hadn't his former commander learned yet that the Princess of Orb was loud, demanding, and unable to be reckoned with?

"A nice shot, wasn't it?" the man sniggered in reply. "I'll do more than that if you don't take me seriously."

"What the hell do you want with us?" Dearka gritted, drawing the attention to himself without seeming to care about the imminent danger.

Evidence of a cruel smirk played across the man's face. "My name is Edmond Chambers. We met the other day, didn't we?" He removed his glossy sunglasses and his beady eyes slid to Miriallia. "Yes, I believe we did."

"And so that gives you incentive to waltz over here and shoot at us?"

The rest of the group held their breaths. Yzak didn't say a word, but prepared himself to step in should any harm threaten to befall Dearka.

Chambers chuckled, a grating sound deep in the back of his throat. "Relax. It's just a twist of fate that you and I met again. You're not why I'm here." Then his accusing glare fell onto Yzak. "But I think _you_ know what this is all about, don't you?"

Yzak could feel the weight of each person's gaze as it shifted in his direction. He returned the stare with his icy eyes and pursed his lips.

Miriallia trembled. The man wanted Yzak? It couldn't be. She reached out for the comfort of Dearka's hand before she realized what she was doing. The Natural at once attempted to pull it back, but his fingers had already closed over hers out of instinct. The Buster pilot's features were drastically different then they'd been seconds ago. All aggression appeared to have seeped away, leaving the blonde weakened and distracted as he watched his best friend become a primary target.

"Now wait just a minute," Kira Yamato cut in, pushing Lacus gently behind him and moving to Yzak's side in a quick defense. "What has he done to you?"

The pale Coordinator blinked at the brunette's intrusion, and a bitter burst of laughter threatened to bubble up from inside him. Yamato was _protecting_ him? To think that he, Yzak Jule, was being defended by the pilot of the Strike whom he'd tried so very hard to eliminate during the war! It was hysterical in its irony.

He pushed the slender youth out of his way. "I can handle this, Yamato," he growled.

"Don't be an idiot!" Cagalli sawed away at him, grabbing his arm when he tried to step forward to meet his challenger. "You have no reason to talk to him at all! You haven't done anything!"

This time Yzak did laugh. It was almost too much. The feisty Princess of Orb was on his side as well, though minutes ago she'd plastered him with a disgusted look after finding him ravaging his best friend. Did miracles never cease?

He tore loose from her grasp without a word. Chambers looked satisfied.

"Wait!" Cagalli yelped, but Athrun placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and she fell silent.

"That's right, Jule," Chambers drawled. "You're coming along with me. I think there's something you'll want to know about."

The silver-haired youth halted in his tracks.

"It seems Ms. Ezalia's rather anxious to hear your voice at the moment. We told her she'd see you if she… cooperated."

Miriallia watched the rage etch itself across Yzak's face with horrifying velocity. Her knees went weak. If she'd learned anything about Yzak Jule from Dearka, it was that the one woman he respected and genuinely cared for was his mother.

"Ezalia Jule?" Cagalli spoke aloud. "If you've done something to her..."

Miriallia's eyes narrowed as she answered the blonde female's unspoken question. "He's a member of the Blues Cosmos."

Dearka cursed in a low murmur, automatically moving to shield the Natural female from the vision of the grinning Chambers.

"Why can't you people just stop all this!" Cagalli was hollering again. "The war is over! The Earth Alliance and the PLANTs have been trying to maintain peace. What makes you think you can do something like this?"

Yzak wanted to pop an entire prescription of painkillers to quell the massive headache he could feel rising to the surface of his cranium. For the love of ZAFT, this business was _his_ business.

"Shut up for once, Athha," he grumbled. But his remark went unheard.

Cagalli and Dearka cursed in unison. Kira and Athrun both yelled something unintelligible. Yzak caught a glimpse of Lacus; the pink songstress narrowed her eyes in a determined manner that the Duel pilot had only witnessed when she was on the battlefield. Miriallia's scream rent the air like a knife sliding across a dusty chalkboard.

Chambers held his gun to her head. "That's enough out of all of you," he clamped a hand over her mouth and took a step backward, knowing the rest wouldn't dare make a move. "Now Mr. Jule, if you care about what happens to your dear Coordinator mother at all, or this girl here, I suggest you shut these people up and come along with me."

Yzak paused. Dearka was pale. Athrun Zala was glaring at him. Cagalli's troubled eyes told him she wished she hadn't spoken out so vehemently.

Miriallia struggled in her captor's grip, but she soon gave up resistance. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, ignoring the foul taste of the palm that was pressed to her mouth. Whatever happened to her now was up to her friends. She trusted them. And as much as she wanted to blame her precarious position on the silver-haired Coordinator before her, she kept her head free of doubt. She trusted him as well.

"Then kill her." Mir's eyes flew open in shock as the words left the pale Coordinator's mouth. "See if I care." Yzak tried to ignore the frustrated tears that welled up in the young female's eyes.

"Yzak!" Dearka shouted, but the moment he made as if to move, Chambers closed his finger over the trigger. The Buster pilot froze.

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Jule? And what about Ms. Ezalia?"

The ZAFT soldier scoffed aloud. "She's a member of the PLANT Supreme Council. Whatever your aim is concerning them, it has nothing to do with me." His eyes were piercing, cold as arctic ice. "If the Council can't handle something like a simple case of terrorism, then they probably deserve whatever's in store." He could feel the confused looks from his friends, but he was careful to keep his face passive.

Chambers' brow darkened significantly. "Is that so? Then maybe I'll just leave and take this girl's life as a souvenir."

Yzak's tone didn't waver. "I already said it makes no difference to me. She's just a stupid Natural."

Miriallia tried to scream, but the sound was muffled. Yzak wished she'd control herself. The others had surely caught on to his plan by now. Still, that didn't guarantee a thing.

"Natural?" Chambers hesitated. Then he spat and cussed crudely. "Looks like you get your way this time, Mr. Jule," he warned, hurling Miriallia roughly away from him. She sank to her knees on the grass. "But you've severely angered all of us. It's not over, and Ms. Ezalia's life in certainly not out of danger yet." The group remained tense until he was safely out of sight.

"Shit!" Yzak slammed his fist into the trunk of the tree, biting his lip in a rage. His limbs were on fire with fury, his head bursting with the sight of red tinged images before his eyes. He tore at his sleek hair, feeling murderous and helpless.

Miriallia quivered, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shake off an invisible cold. She'd had a brush with death, but she'd been saved. The Natural squinted her eyes shut as the sound of knuckles hitting bark reached her ears a second time, and the wild cursing continued. Each blow from the enraged male was a direct strike at her. She felt his hatred blossoming like a purpled bruise. Finally the onslaught ceased, and she slit her eyes open in time to watch the pale youth sink weakly to the ground in defeat, face buried in his hands in agony. As she shook with the weight of her own uselessness, the sight of his wearied state made the tears leak from her eyes.


	12. Torn Apart

_A/N: You know, I tried to post this HOURS ago earlier today, but this website was trying to kill me, I swear. Kept giving me error messages every time I went to log in…_

Miriallia stood in one corner of Dearka's kitchen, feeling too much like an intruder to sit down and too weary to remain standing. It had been two days since the incident at the park, and he hadn't spoken with her. Or rather, she hadn't spoken to him. It wasn't an immature, angry silence. It was a ripple of awkward emotions and insecurities that erased the need to talk. The Natural knew she ought to take action, but she didn't know where to start. When Dearka had called her on impulse and asked her to his apartment, she'd gone without a second thought.

Now she was chewing her lower lip, waiting. Dearka fiddled absently with a napkin from his position at the table. The ticking of the wall clock echoed through the quiet. Miriallia's mind was a blank chalkboard; any notions she tried to grasp slipped away like beads of water down a slick window. She didn't think. She didn't have to.

The next time she looked, Dearka's napkin had transformed into a pile of ragged scraps on the tabletop. "Dearka," she ventured, and he looked up in surprise, as if baffled she was speaking to him. "He'll be here."

The blonde ran a hand restlessly through his wavy golden locks. "He hardly said two words to me when I called him."

"He trusts you. He'll be here."

"He wouldn't even let me in when I went to his apartment room to see if he was okay."

Mir couldn't help but let a wry grin slip. "I guess that's means he's fixed his lock."

The Buster pilot was now tapping a tuneless drum roll with his fingers. "Yeah. The window too."

Miriallia watched him carefully, no longer able to deny the air of anxiety that swelled the aura around the ZAFT soldier. "You care for him almost too much, don't you?" She tilted her head back and rested it against the doorframe.

"Too much?"

"You'll hurt yourself this way. If you can't stand waiting for him, then go find him." The words that tumbled from her mouth came easier than she'd expected. "Go tell him that you're worried and make him listen. Show him that you care about him as much as he cares for you."

Dearka had halted his drumming, and was fixing her with a stare that proved once and for all that she'd cracked. The young Natural wondered for a moment if his beliefs weren't right on target, if she had truly lost her wits. But she didn't have the energy to question her own statements any more. She felt hollow.

Then the door creaked open, and someone entered from the hall.

Dearka was on his feet instantly, taking the corner into the living room with a sharp pivot, hands jammed into his pockets. Miriallia followed, vision dim.

Yzak Jule stood passively on the carpet, squinting his eyes in the sunlight that streamed through the curtains. "I'm here," he muttered, gazing at them with deadened eyes. "Now why the hell are you wasting my time?" He could feel the room's two occupants scrutinizing him.

"You've been drinking," Dearka observed, carefully, tentatively. "And you haven't slept."

"Brilliant, Elsman," the Duel pilot snorted, tossing back his silver hair. The flawless strands were out of place, the shimmer dulled significantly. He knew he looked horrific. He'd been forced to take notice of it when he walked by his mirror that morning, or was it the morning before? Time had blurred together as if a child had melded the hours like paint colors. Dearka appeared ruffled as well. Yzak broke under his concerned gaze.

"I only had a bit to drink," he clarified, lying through his teeth. He _had_ been drinking, something he usually never stooped to doing. It had soothed him, to be able to drown out thought and feeling, to block out life itself and all its impurities, to quell the heavy beating of his heart.

"God damn it. Don't lie to me, Yzak."

The opposite Coordinator's response was scornful, uncaring. "I thought I was cute when I lied." Then he caught sight of Miriallia. "Well, well. Nice to see you again, Haww." He could tell his deliberate sneer had injured her.

Miriallia's prior guilt rushed back, more potent than it had been in the moments after he'd rescued her. To see him this way, to see his wrinkled white T-shirt, the dark circles imprinted like ink stains beneath his brilliant eyes, to witness his deteriorating state of weariness and helplessness… it was all her fault. He was ragged, torn  his edges were frayed.

"Yzak," her voice wavered as the lump in her throat grew swollen. "Just tell me you hate me. I'd deserve it." She pretended not to notice Dearka's disapproving glance.

"Aren't you intelligent, Haww," Yzak scoffed. "But not intelligent enough. I don't hate you." He refused to meet her gaze even as she looked up through her watery vision. "I wouldn't have bothered to rescue you if I wanted you dead. Stop with the sympathy; it's disgusting. Despite what you think, I'm not falling apart at my seams."

Her heart wanted to leap at his hesitant forgiveness, but guilt held her back. "But because of me, you didn't get to help your mother! Because you resisted Chambers so you could get him to let me go, he left and wouldn't take you to her. She could be… By now she might be…"

Mir stumbled. She would not allow herself to think of the consequences. Yzak's cleverness, his ploy to make Chambers think she meant nothing while casually slipping that she was a Natural, had caused the Blue Cosmo member to release her in fear of harming his own kind. The Coordinator had passed up a chance to aid Ezalia in order to prevent a Natural girl he disliked from being shot in the head. But now Ezalia Jule could very well be…

"Haww, do you think I don't know all that?" His voice cut her stammering short. "I realize the position I'm in, and I chose it." His thin lips formed a snarl. "Stop sniveling."

"Enough," Dearka ordered, taking a step toward the silver-haired youth. "Yzak, you came. That's all I care about. I thought you…" he trailed off, something the talkative jokester was not prone to do.

Yzak's tired eyes narrowed dangerously. "You thought what, Elsman?" He didn't want Dearka acting out of character. He didn't need the concern of anyone.

"It's not important." The blonde was upset. "Listen to me, you idiot." The Duel pilot immediately raised his barriers. "Didn't you think to tell me what was going on at all? Didn't you realize I was worried? God damn you, Yzak, what the hell has been going on?"

Yzak's eyes flew wide, and he felt himself suddenly weaken. He'd been thrown off guard by the passionate outburst. What was the blonde trying to tell him?

"He's right," Miriallia added. "That man was a member of the Blue Cosmos. He's dangerous."

"What did you get yourself into?" Dearka demanded, violet eyes sparking with electricity. Yzak felt bombarded from all sides. "Why didn't you tell me anything about it? Christ, you live in the same apartment complex as me and we've been friends for years. Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

Yzak trembled despite himself. He'd never seen his best friend so angry. He suddenly wished the blonde would just hurl him into another wall. Physical violence due to rage he understood, but Dearka's current state of emotions was beyond his comprehension. He noted with alarm the uncharacteristic wrinkle in the tanned male's brow, the pain in his intense, violet gaze. The Buster pilot broadcasted defeat more than wrath, and the words that flew from him were unexpected and shocking.

"I told you," Yzak floundered, fixing his pale features with a scowl, "I got in a fight with a few Blue Cosmos. I overheard them plotting something against the PLANTs. They realized who I was, so it was only natural for them to try to use me to get to the Supreme Council, through my mother." He wasn't sure Dearka had even heard him.

"Idiot!" the blonde hollered again, and Yzak couldn't help but notice the ironic reversal of their roles. _He_ was usually the one hurling insults. "How could you get involved in something so serious on your own? Did you think I wouldn't care enough to help you? Why the hell can't you just trust me? I'm not only here for kicks." His last sentence was bitter.

The onslaught had sparked a rebellious flare. Though the pale youth would never alert the laid-back Buster pilot of it, Dearka was the only human being in the world he _did_ trust. The silver-haired mobile suit pilot snorted, working hard to keep from screaming his irate reply. "Could have fooled me," he announced smoothly. "And it's my problem, Elsman. Why should I bother you with things that I can handle on my own? Besides," he tossed Miriallia a withering look, "Lately you've been awfully _busy_." When Dearka made a sound of frustration, he immediately wished he hadn't said it.

Then Dearka was moving forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Yzak stiffened.

"No matter what happens," the blonde exclaimed in a strained voice, "I'll always be here. God damn you, you're so stupid, Yzak."

Yzak had intended on hardening himself, numbing his mind and handling the situation alone. He'd needed time, that was all. But without warning time had stopped, and Dearka's strong arms were encircling him and setting him awash with warmth. He felt himself giving in to human comfort for the first time in years, and the blonde, sensing his thoughts, squeezed him tighter.

Two consecutive nights without sleep melted away. The tension in his shoulders dissipated, and he felt foolish. He was making a spectacle of himself, clinging to Dearka with an urgency that stemmed from somewhere deep inside him, where there had previously been only ice. He sunk into the embrace despite his nagging pride. Dearka's body was supportive, so much more able than his own. His hands trembled.

"Dearka…"

The name escaped his lips in a soft, broken whisper. He didn't want the opposite male to break the spell. If he took away the protection of his arms now, Yzak feared he might break.

"I'm going to help you, Yzak," the blonde murmured. He tilted up the pale youth's chin with a guiding hand and met his clear, blue eyes with a firmness that radiated calm and reassurance. "I don't care if you want me to or not. I don't want you to forget again."

For the first time in two days, the pale Duel pilot felt a strange, familiar peace, one that only Dearka Elsman was capable of making him feel. "Forget what?" Yzak struggled with his haywire emotions, as the blonde held his imploring gaze and his body caught fire.

"Forget that you are the most important person in the world to me."

_A/N: Oh gods. This is the sappiest, most angst-ridden, most pathetic chapter of them ALL. I do deeply apologize. Though, while it disgusts _me_, apparently no one else minds it. xP Anyway, making things work out this way just seemed… appropriate. I'll update again soon for all you drama lovers, I promise._


	13. Jarred Into Action

_The most important person in the world._ The proclamation ricocheted off the inside of her braincase, and each syllable stung. With a pang of regret, the Natural female watched Yzak as he crumbled in Dearka's arms. She felt a sorrow that made her want to weep, but there was no jealousy, no roots of envy to sprout and harm her. And suddenly Miriallia Haww realized the sacrifice she would have to make.

It had been nagging at her, absorbing the rest of her intelligent thought. If there was a shred of hope, a tiny pinprick of light, she may not need to follow through. Yet one look at the way the two males stood pressed against each other, one quick observation regarding the tranquil look on Dearka's face told her that she had little choice. Whether the two admitted it to themselves or not, she knew.

The matter was final. Her heart was breaking.

She must have let out an unconscious gasp, because suddenly Dearka had let go of Yzak and was peering worriedly in her direction.

The silver-haired male slipped down onto the sofa, squinting his eyes as if fighting dizziness. At once the young girl felt like doing the same, but then Dearka was at her side, gripping her upper arm tightly, concern plastering his already haggard features.

"Miriallia," he started, "What's the matter? Answer me, Mir!" Violet eyes dazzled her.

"I can't…" Her voice caught in her throat, but he waited for her to go on. Yzak had both hands glued to his head, appearing slightly faint after his ordeal of zero sleep coupled with a drinking binge. "You've just said that…" And her tears began. "Oh Dearka, I can't do this anymore. I give up." To her own dismay she buried her face in his chest, and his arms closed around her willingly.

"Can't do what?" he pressed. "Mir, I don't understand you. I didn't say anything I thought would… All I said was…"

"You promised me."

The blonde stiffened. "What makes you think I'm breaking my promise?"

Mir sniffed. It was too hard to form a coherent phrase. "You promised you wouldn't leave. You said you wouldn't go anywhere."

He hugged her then, but it didn't feel real. It was genuine; he felt pity for her. But as genuine as it was, his arms did not convey the fervor that he'd just bestowed upon his best friend. The Natural treasured the moment anyway.

"Miriallia, I said I loved you, didn't I?" His voice was confused, strained. "So why the hell would I change my mind about something that serious?" Miriallia heard him as if from a distance.

She'd glanced up at Yzak, who now shifted desperately in his seat. She had to do something to reassure him, even if it would confuse the perplexed Buster pilot before her. She struggled to reign in her distress for the pale Coordinator's sake. She felt it was the right choice under the circumstances.

She lowered her voice to spare Yzak the details of their conversation. "How can you claim to love me, but tell someone else that they're the most important? The person you love _is_ the most important." She gently pushed him back, swiping a hand across her puffy eyes to dry them. She refused to cry over what she knew had been coming all along. "If you love him, tell him."

Dearka Elsman looked as if he'd been slapped. "You're not making any sense." The darkness of his frown matched the dangerous tone of his voice. "Don't you break down on me too, Mir."

She scanned his face for any signs of deceit, and was not surprised when there were none. It was as she'd suspected; he was not ready. And she would not interfere where she was not invited.

"Can we talk later, then? Once this mess is all cleared up?" The crisp, assured tone was back in her voice.

The blonde faltered, but only for an instant. "Y-yeah. Of course."

Yzak pulled himself to his feet with effort and opened his mouth to speak. "I'm—"

"Shut up, Jule." The command flew at the silver-haired youth like a cannonball, and the shock knocked the Coordinator off his feet and back onto the waiting sofa. The blonde appeared unaffected, and the pale Duel pilot simmered, outraged at being ordered around.

"Screw you, Elsman," Yzak snarled. "I'll leave this dump if I want to."

Mir concluded that the bad-tempered male had regained his former sense of self. She admired his ability to do so in such a short passage of time, considering the vulnerable position he'd been in moments ago. Or perhaps he'd felt the need to atone for it, to compensate.

"You're staying right where I tell you." The blonde was calm again, his usual demeanor returning with a sarcastic grace. "You too, Mir. I'm running to the store to get a cold compress and more painkillers."

"What's the cold compress for?" Yzak demanded.

"Your head," Dearka responded cheekily. "It hurts like hell, doesn't it?" The blonde was out the door within seconds, sneaky grin in tow.

Miriallia gaped after him, eyes wide in awe. Then she looked at Yzak. Despite Dearka's return to normalcy, the silver-haired boy still swelled with a plethora of emotions. Yet he hid it far better than she, and for that she admired him. Though he'd probably been fighting from the start, it had taken her ages to understand his hostile attitude. She understood Dearka now as well, and the way the two of them operated as one. They were silver and gold on a linked chain of support and desire. One needed the other; the other wouldn't function correctly without the one. The system was like clockwork, intricate and precise, and she had upset the delicate balance, with a little help from the war on the sidelines.

"Yzak," she muttered, more as a statement than a question.

"Just be quiet, Haww."

She tensed. "No. Shut up and hear me out."

The pale youth lifted his head from his hands and fixed her with a red-rimmed glare. "Why is everyone ordering me around like I'm some sort of civilian?"

The Natural couldn't help but laugh a bit, and it felt good. It brought relief flooding through her system like cooling rain, and she breathed a rich sigh, refreshed. "But you sort of are a civilian now, aren't you? The war's over."

"That doesn't mean a thing," he scoffed. "And unless you want to resurrect from the dead and strut about in a mask, you aren't my commander, so back off."

So this was the creature her own lover had chosen. She couldn't comprehend it yet, but she didn't need to. Knowing was enough. Trusting her instinct and that of her boyfriend was enough. She sat down on the couch beside Yzak, and he flinched, moving over as far as the limited space would allow.

Miriallia sighed, exasperated. "What now?" she wondered aloud.

The pale youth grimaced. "What kind of question is that?"

"Shouldn't you be happy?" She watched him from the corner of her eye. "He cares for you the most after all."

Yzak sprung from the cushions, genuinely angered. Miriallia could tell with one look that she'd insulted him — his clenched fists and bared teeth were solid proof.

"Just how much of a fool _are_ you, Haww?" he spat vehemently. "It's not a competition! The way he feels, or the way I feel about him… It's not some factor that will help one side win against the other. It can't be helped."

She grinned like a court jester, and his jaw fell limp. She laughed again, finding a stunned, senseless Yzak most amusing.

It didn't take him long to recover. "What's so funny, Haww?" he barked.

"I got you to confess," she revealed. "You said it yourself. You care about Dearka too."

Yzak narrowed his blue eyes and averted his gaze in an attempt to hide a threatening blush.

"Haven't you been the one telling me all this time that you had no feelings for him anymore?" She received no reply. Then, "Let me see your hands," she said, motioning to the bandages that hugged his knuckles. The attack on the rough bark of the tree had shaved multiple layers of skin from his white knuckles.

"I don't need you to baby me," came the predicted denial. He sat down on the sofa and held out one hand.

Miriallia worked silently for a long time, not speaking a word even as she left the couch and rummaged in the bathroom for clean bandages. She resumed her seat and took the offered hand with care, then began to re-dress his wounds. Neither made eye contact, and it seemed Yzak hardly breathed.

After a time, Miriallia could restrain herself back no longer. "You know," she ventured, "I think I finally get you, Yzak Jule."

His body language and expression remained flat as he responded in monotone. "I'm sure you feel pleased with yourself. What do you want me to do about it?"

She taped his bandage with nimble fingers. "Let me help as well. Let me help you like Dearka is going to help you."

Yzak withdrew his injured knuckles and looked them over with a jaundiced eye, impressed, Miriallia guessed, to find the binding so flawless. She reached for his opposite hand, and he let her take it reluctantly.

"You'd only get in the way," he sneered in his skepticism.

She'd already prepared an argument. "Don't forget I fought on the Archangel. I can handle myself. I may not be too handy with a gun, but I won't run away crying. And I'm a Natural like Chambers, so maybe you can use that to your advantage again." She finished wrapping his second hand and met his cool stare.

"Interesting, Haww. You make it sound like we're jumping into another war." But she could tell he was considering the proposal.

Her face was grim. "Aren't we?" He didn't answer. "Let me make up for what happened at the park," she added. "I owe you." She wasn't one to forget her debts, and she didn't like _remaining_ indebted, either. She prayed the pale Coordinator would accept her offer for assistance, hoped he'd put his pride aside for his sake and Dearka's. He must have read her expression clearly, because he nodded.

"Fine. But if you get in my way, this time I won't care if you die."

She hid an inner grin. So the first time he _had_ valued her life, and he didn't mind admitting it. Her silent amusement must have put him on his guard, because he jerked his hand away and scowled.

"Stupid Natural," he muttered suspiciously.

Miriallia smiled. "I think you're starting to annoy me less, Yzak."

"Well," the pale boy snarled, "You're still obnoxious."

Mir breathed a sigh of relief. It would take a long time to mend the pieces of her that had broken, but she was already starting to reassemble the puzzle.


	14. Intimacy

_A/N: Now, I know this chapter is abnormally long, but I thought it was time everyone had some good, clean fun. (Clean! Pffftttt.) The story is nearing its conclusion, and I needed to throw something like this in here. And by this I mean…_

_SHOUNEN AI! YAOI! SLASH! BOY-ON-BOY! A bit more than usual. I fear I'll need to change the rating of this story after I post this chapter. Maybe not. Borderline. Anyway, consider yourselves warned. _

_After reading so many wonderfully written massage scenes in various fandoms, I've wanted to try one myself with these two, so here's my attempt. A little present, heh heh… I think I'll shut up and let you read now. xP _

Yzak was sprawled atop Dearka's bed, waiting for the blonde to return home from the store. His head reeled with the weight of everything that had come to pass within the last two days. The Natural had left a good ten minutes ago, claiming she had errands to run before returning home. The silver-haired male wondered why she didn't stay to wait for Dearka, but then concluded that she felt as worn as he did.

"I'm sure he's not done discussing what he called me over for," she'd shaken her head helplessly, "But we'll have to talk another time."

When she'd left, Yzak had suspected it had been her goal to leave the two of them alone. He'd kicked the leg of the coffee table the moment she'd shut the door. He didn't need some stupid female playing matchmaker, thinking she was being noble by sacrificing her own feelings. Now he cursed himself internally, wishing he'd refused her offer of assistance with the Blue Cosmos incident. He couldn't even remember what had made him agree in the first place. And as far as he and Dearka were concerned, Yzak Jule had no idea how he felt.

Okay, so that was a lie. He'd decided at the park when he'd forced himself onto the blonde that he'd not bother anymore with scruples. He would avoid the foolish pain of helpless denial by acting on his lust despite where it took him. But was it just lust, or was it more? He'd not yet considered other possibilities. Anything other than simple physical attraction disgusted him. Anything deeper was dangerous territory. Love was a weakness, one he couldn't afford to venture close to. But Mir had hinted that Dearka felt more than lust for _him_.

With a quick roll of his icy eyes, Yzak decided she was crazy.

"I'm back," came the call from the living room, and Yzak didn't answer. Now he'd have to move. He'd been enjoying his sprawled position on the tanned male's bed, drifting between sleep and conscious thought with the familiar scent of strawberries wafting from the rumpled sheets. With a grunt he tried to lift his leaden limbs, but to no avail.

"Made yourself at home on my bed, have you?" Dearka leaned coolly against the doorframe, watching him. "Or did you have something else in mind?" The twinkle in his gaze was unmistakable.

"Very funny, Elsman." The Duel pilot groaned as he heaved himself to a sitting position.

"Go easy," Dearka warned, slipping through the door and shutting it behind him. "For all you know, you could still have a nice buzz going from the last two nights."

Yzak wanted to yell at him, but he feared the volume would only increase the sharp throbbing in his skull. "Why the hell are you suddenly in such a good mood?" he shot, annoyed. "Your girlfriend left already, you know. And if you keep grinning like that, hangover or not, I'm going to kill you, Elsman."

"How much did you drink, anyway?" The defiant grin widened deliberately.

"That's it, you bastard," Yzak threatened, but the moment he tried to move he fell back, dizzy. "God damn it."

"Here." Dearka tossed him the bad he'd been holding. The contents spilled out onto the bed when Yzak missed the catch.

The Duel pilot's eyebrow twitched in irritation. "And what am I supposed to take the painkillers with?" he demanded. He shivered as he remembered the way Miriallia swallowed them without a liquid.

"Get moving and get your own glass of water," the blonde suggested, kicking off his shoes and plunking onto the opposite side of the bed. "It'll do you good." He only let out an amused puff of air when the other Coordinator didn't move.

Yzak shuffled through the contents of the bag, searching but coming up dry. "Cold compress?" he asked.

"All out at the store," Dearka grumbled. Then he crawled to Yzak's side of the bed and scooped up something else. "But I got this instead. Should end up being the equivalent of making you feel better with a cold compress." Something about his words struck Yzak as suspicious.

The silver-haired male was skeptical. Dearka held it in front of his nose, and he had to squint and struggle through rocking, rippling vision to read the intricate label. He immediately paled.

"No way, Elsman. If you even try it I'll slam your head right into the floor." But he could already feel himself heating up with suggestive thoughts.

Dearka could see it in his minuscule shift of expression. "I didn't buy massage oil just to let it go to waste." The curl of his lips was positively mischievous. Yzak's heart fluttered, and he cursed himself in every language he knew.

"I said no."

Dearka's violet eyes glinted. "Afraid you'll like it too much?"

The caustic blonde had hit the mark on the nose. Yzak bit his tongue and glared. If he took up the challenge, he'd be playing into the Buster pilot's hands. Still, the assumption that he was scared angered him. Yzak never _had_ been able to turn down a challenge.

"If you think I'm intimidated by _you_, Elsman, then you're dumber than I thought." He fought back a pleasant shiver as Dearka breathed seductively down the back of his neck.

"So does that mean yes?" The bottle opened and a fruity aroma floated through the air.

"Strawberry," Yzak observed, unimpressed. "Why didn't you get a flavor I like?" His shirt came off smoothly, and he shuddered as Dearka spread his sticky hands across his naked back.

"But didn't you know?" Dearka nibbled lightly at his neck from behind, pausing to lick a short trail up to his ear, where he whispered, "It's because of you that I like this flavor the way that I do." If Yzak had retained any resolve at that moment, it fled at the blonde's announcement, and fled even farther when Dearka started sucking on his shoulder.

"Before you have me entirely in your clutches," Yzak gritted, angry at himself for falling so easily into such an intimate trap, "Why don't you tell me what brought this on."

"Combination guilt for not taking quicker action at the park two days ago and an incredible yearning to taste you again after all this time."

Yzak nearly fell over in his haste to spin around. The answer had been far more direct than he'd expected. He wondered if he should make a crack about Dearka being in a hurry to unclothe him, but he clamped his mouth shut the instant he realized he wanted the same thing. Dearka knew it, and he placed a guiding hand on each of his shoulders to push him to his stomach, though not before delivering another steaming kiss to his neck that made Yzak shiver with delight.

"You'd better be good at this, Elsman." It was a last, weak attempt at keeping some semblance of control. "You know I hate when people touch me."

"Oh, I'm good at it," the blonde reassured him, leaning down and kissing with a gentle leisure the locks of silver hair that had settled by his cheeks. "And I know you sure as hell don't mind _me_ touching you."

Yzak was fighting too hard to plough onward in his argument. Dearka had won.

The paler youth gave in with a growl. "Then stop talking and get moving!"

Dearka laughed. "Let's not be hasty," he murmured, spreading the warm, relaxing oil across Yzak's pale shoulders and down his spine. The silver-haired boy could feel the pain receding from his sore, tired muscles, the weariness draining completely. He at once became awake and rejuvenated, and much more aware of the tempting body above him.

Dearka's palms rubbed wide circles across his lower back, then his thumbs worked out minute kinks around his shoulder blades. The Buster pilot labored deftly, saying nothing as he slowly ridded Yzak of aches and pains the slighter male had not even been aware of. The simultaneous warm-and-cool sensation was driving him mad with pleasure. Yzak turned his face into the pillow and pressed his forehead against its edge, fighting the bolts of delicious ecstasy that shot through his very marrow. He had the feeling Dearka hadn't reached the dangerous part yet; he was sincerely trying to make him comfortable first, washing away the mishaps of the last two days.

Then the Buster pilot paused, presumably to add more of the sweet oil to his hands. Yzak couldn't help himself. The sudden withdrawal of the pleasant feeling irked him.

"Don't stop, idiot."

"You like it?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could control himself. "Hell yes." He did, however, make sure to deliver the line with his usual astuteness.

Dearka resumed, but Yzak didn't feel any stickier than he'd previously been. He realized that the real reason Dearka had stopped was to gauge his condition, not to get more oil.

"Bastard," he muttered darkly into the pillow, clenching his teeth as Dearka's routine grew slightly more erotic.

"What's that, Yzak?" The blonde pretended not to hear him, but the silver-haired youth sensed the sly smirk in his tone.

Dearka ran his strong, masculine hands across his shoulders in a teasing fashion, following through with deeper, more generous motions as his palms traveled lower. Yzak's back arched at the irresistible touch, and he fisted the sheets, ignoring the pain that bolted through his injured knuckles as a result. He'd been hurled into an abyss of the most sinful, wicked passion, and the sound of Dearka's nefarious chuckle made him want to set himself onto his tanned body like a hungry wolf.

The blonde read his thoughts with ease, adjusting as needed. He brushed lightly with fingertips in the places Yzak liked, massaged hard and mercilessly in the spots where he burned for the blonde to indulge him. The burst of unrestrained lust he felt when Dearka slid his slick hands down the sides of his waist was unbearable. He wanted those hands everywhere at once, all over his shoulders and back, and down his sides and across his chest and tangled in his hair, but he dared not shift lest the current movement cease.

Yzak felt his breathing quicken, in time to accompany a jolt of passion that thumped in his chest and stomach. He bit down hard on the soft material of Dearka's pillow, holding in a cry of enthusiasm as Dearka's repeating motions became near to deadly erotic. Then the Buster pilot changed his pace to something slower and more subtle, and Yzak let out a low moan of pleasure that he could no longer contain.

"Hah," Dearka gloated.

Yzak cinched his eyes shut, but it wouldn't block out the numerous, naughty images that circulated before his eyes. "Shut up," he gasped, "Don't you dare stop now." Good god, he wanted it to never end.

"How bad do you want me at this point?" the opposite Coordinator teased, "Now I'm curious." It was then that Yzak realized the blonde was straddling him.

Dearka had shifted upward, positioning his hips just over the Duel pilot's lower back. His muscled thighs rested against Yzak's waist. The pale youth was sorely tempted to roll over and allow their hips to grind together, to pull the delightful body that hovered over him directly onto him and kiss his partner until neither of them cold breathe. He didn't. Instead another long moan slipped from his lips, and Dearka responded by sliding a hand around to his stomach in front and then down below the waistline of his loosened jeans.

With one hand on Yzak's narrow hip, Dearka pulled him onto his back, not caring about the strawberry scented oil that would sink into his sheets. Yzak let out a low sigh of desire as Dearka kissed him and their tongues mingled shortly. He pulled away with a seductive smirk and proceeded to slide a slick hand down the front of Yzak's jeans.

The Duel pilot's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected such a bold move after they'd been apart for so long.

"D-Dearka…" His eyelids fluttered, and the blonde slid up and down the length of his hardened member with unhurried poise. His free hand was tangled in the pale Coordinator's silken, silver locks. Yzak's body was afire with life, and the delicious presence of Dearka filled every one of his keen senses.

Finally he expired with a shudder of bliss. Dearka withdrew his hand and raised his coated fingers to his lips, where he licked them clean in a suggestive manner that made Yzak want him all over again. The blonde Buster pilot bent over him and delivered a deep kiss that seared him with its power. His own soft, pliant lips were assaulted by Dearka's pleasantly firm ones, and the tanned male bit down and sucked at his lower lip. The move sent tingles of sensation plummeting through each of Yzak's veins, and he felt the results of the kiss long after it had been cut short.

The pale Coordinator panted once his partner had finished. "Why didn't you kiss me like that the night we went to see the landlady?" Yzak inquired sarcastically. His ragged breathing had not yet returned to normal; he was still mad with desire. "If you'd kissed me like _that_ I might not have been able to see myself out," he added.

"Next time I want to screw around on my couch in the dark, I'll remember that," Dearka quipped. Then to Yzak's confusion, he stood up and moved off the bed.

"I owed you that, Yzak," he said, making his way for the door.

Yzak hid his bafflement and instead chose to counter the other soldier's statement. "You mean you wanted me so badly you ran out and got massage oil," he scoffed.

Dearka's eyebrow quirked up. "Very funny." Then he opened the door and set one foot in the hall.

Yzak could contain his confusion no longer. "Where are you going?" he questioned, frowning.

"Shower."

"What? What about…" he trailed off, suddenly shy and unwilling to inquiry about the status of his former lover.

Dearka gave a wink and shrugged. "It'll be okay. Get some rest." He shut the door quietly as he exited.

Yzak flopped back onto the bed and fixed his blue orbs on the ceiling, feeling at ease for the first time in quite a while. But something nagged at him, something told him that his former theory about lust was lacking. He pressed the matter aside. Damn it, he'd just gotten everything he'd been yearning for — intimacy with Dearka after a long, unhappy dry spell. He ought to have been celebrating.

"Arrgh," the silver-haired Coordinator snarled, rolling onto his side with the intent of getting some much needed rest.


	15. Demons In His Past

Miriallia was slicing potatoes in her tiny kitchenette when the doorbell rang. Her stomach plummeted with fear of the unknown, and she left her cooking uneasily. People she knew usually called before they arrived. She was not expecting guests. The Natural gripped the handle of the knife tighter as she made her way to the door and flung it open, alert.

"Dearka!"

His lips quirked into a grin as he caught sight of the gleaming blade in her hand. "You were expecting the Blue Cosmos?" Despite his sly face, Miriallia didn't think it was funny.

She hid the kitchen knife sheepishly behind her back. "Um. Well. Er, why don't you just come in?"

"Something smells good," the blonde complimented, automatically heading for where the spicy aroma emanated from.

The brunette watched him as he tromped about her apartment, entirely at ease. His hair was wet, which meant he must have taken a shower, since there had been no rain in the forecast. He seemed… relaxed. Completely content and satisfied.

"I'm making potato and beef stew," she exclaimed, following him around the table and to the stove. "It's actually for you and Yzak. I thought you both could use a homemade dinner for once."

"You know, Yzak isn't half bad at cooking, though he won't admit it, and he hates it more than life itself. His mother was always gone when he was a kid, so he had to learn."

The remark had come from nowhere. The blonde apparently realized it, because he turned a faint shade of red and rubbed the back of his neck in his distraction.

"Ah, sorry. I just meant that you didn't have to go through the trouble. I could always just coax him into it, so you wouldn't have to." Then the tanned male clamped his mouth shut, recognizing that he had likely increased the awkwardness tenfold. "What I meant was—"

"Relax," Mir commanded. She had been leaning against the countertop, fighting back an amused smile. "Guilty of something, are we?" The corners of her eyes crinkled as she teased him mercilessly.

His violet eyes glinted. "I have no idea what you're accusing me of."

"Liar."

"I can't help myself." He made a playful move to peck her on the cheek, but she evaded him.

"Don't push your luck." She wasn't in the mood for any of his games, and he must have sensed it, for he backed off quite quickly. "I assume you're here because I left before you could talk to me earlier?"

The Buster pilot dipped the ladle into the stew and raised it to his lips. Miriallia slapped his hand away, and he howled as the hot liquid sloshed onto his fingers. "Ow!"

"It's not done yet. Leave it alone."

Dearka raised an eyebrow, tossing her a reproachful glance in his typical, why-do-you-pick-on-me manner. But Miriallia felt her insides go cold. There was something else in his gaze that she couldn't piece together, something that scared her. He spoke, and she was frightened by the strange seriousness in his tone. The change had been too immediate to feel natural.

"I didn't come to finish the conversation that I called you to my place for," he said. "That doesn't matter any more."

The pot of stew was bubbling too quickly, but Mir was oblivious to it, pinned down as she was by her boyfriend's odd words. He wasn't looking her in the eye, and the way he absently cracked his knuckles told her he was warring with his inner self.

He blinked. "I have something I need to…" But he trailed off with a low growl of frustration.

It was then that Miriallia realized what he was trying to figure out. He needed her help. She had come to the correct conclusion on her own, but as she'd suspected, he didn't know how to handle the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling. She took a deep breath and faced the demons.

"Dearka, do you love me?" It pained her to ask. After all, he'd said himself that he cared for her, had he not? But she kept her voice a careful monotone and battled her own disappointment back. Sooner or later she had to stop pretending and allow herself to face the truth, the answer she knew was coming.

"I don't know."

The response nearly knocked the young Natural off her feet. "Wh-what? You don't know?" Her head reeled. That was not the answer she had expected. She had braced herself for the impact of the worst. Instead he had given her an undecided.

The tanned youth finished in a rush. "I know that's not what I told you before, and probably not what you wanted to hear. But there's something I can't understand on my own."

Now the former CIC was baffled. Dearka Elsman was openly admitting to being unsure.

"I thought I loved you, and you do mean a lot to me, but Mir," he drew her close, grasping her wrist, "How the hell am I supposed to know for sure?"

She watched the conflict behind his troubled gaze, noted the way his chest rose and fell in a ragged, nervous pattern.

"I think," she began, wishing she could disappear into the emptiness of space, "I think the person you really love is…" She stopped, hating the word on her tongue, loathing the use of it, the way it made her sound sappy and vulnerable. The urge to blast herself into space heightened, but she forced out the rest of her thought. "I think you love Yzak."

At first he didn't react at all. Then he gently dropped her hand, and his tanned features paled. Miriallia panicked. He looked suddenly faint.

"Y-Yzak?" he echoed in a whisper. "That's… Miriallia, no. Listen to me. You can't be right, because I know that I still feel things for you. The war."

"The war?" His agitation frightened her. Dearka was not supposed to act this way.

"You taught me something then," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her in. He ran a hand through her hair, gently, affectionately, and matched her stare for stare. "On the Archangel, you taught me that there really is no difference between Coordinators and Naturals. From you, I learned not to hate. You made me realized what I was fighting for."

"B-but…"

"Don't you get it? It's so important. You are the embodiment of everything I've become since then, the reason I changed, the reason I left ZAFT in the end. I can't lose sight of that."

Miriallia trembled. She had misunderstood him the entire time, believing it was a simple case of her boyfriend caring for another, and not admitting or realizing it. On the contrary — the blonde's feelings had dug themselves a much deeper pit, burrowing into the ground to a place she could not reach. She had been transformed into his crutch, his proof that he knew what was right. If she was around, he couldn't feel guilt about his abandonment of his own people during the most critical time of the war.

As long as he kept holding on to her for such a complicated reason, none of them could move forward.

She needed to convince him to let her go, but she felt a lump forming in the back of her throat as he kissed her with passion and she gave in, loving his touch and his taste.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Mir," he said, "I intend to figure it out. So please, just wait a little longer." His arms engulfed her, and this time, the embrace was genuine.

Miriallia Haww couldn't speak. She knew Dearka's confession boded ill for them all, but she held her silence, too selfish to either accept or refuse his plea.

"Dearka." She decided with a jolt that it was best to intervene rather than let him travel down his current path. "It wasn't me who changed your position during the war. I'm sure it was a lot of things. You can't hold on to me because of that. All I want is for you to be happy. And also, if that means you'd rather be with your best friend than with me, I won't hold it against you any more." The words seared her lips, but she felt righteous in speaking them.

He stepped away and made for the door, cutting her off in the midst of her tirade. "I came to tell you that there's somewhere I need to go," he said, donning his light jacket and placing his hand on the knob. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"Wait just a second," she insisted, gripping his sleeve before she realized how desperate she sounded. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Dearka? Don't—"

He silenced her with a chaste kiss, and his voice softened. "You need to let me do this, okay? I'm going." The door closed.

Miriallia slammed her fist into the wall, the direct result of the first violent outburst she'd ever had. Then she cradled her throbbing hand, cursing to the empty room.

The stew in the kitchen had boiled over long ago.

_A/N: Hi guys. Much love to all my lovely reviewers. I have some… news. As much as I'm dying to update this story as often as possible, starting tonight I'll be in Maine on a mini-vacation until the beginning of next week. Safe to say I won't be writing, so you'll have to wait a bit. I'm so sorry! Don't eat me alive!_

_On another note… did this chapter feel WEIRD to you? I felt like the whole thing was so off when I was writing it. Almost as if I wrote it in an entirely different style, or it started sending a weird vibe… Something really threw me. It feels like this bit just doesn't flow with the rest. I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT! AUGH! IT BOTHERS ME! Maybe it's a sign saying I shouldn't have taken the story in this direction. (Oh gods, I hope not. That would mean a re-write.) Hopefully none of you noticed, though, and it's okay._

_I'll be back and writing as soon as I can. Thank you, THANK YOU to those of you who keep reviewing. I love the feedback. Bye bye!_


	16. Disappearance

Yzak removed the boiling pot from the coffee maker and poured a steaming mug, helping himself to a generous amount of sugar from Dearka's stock. Normally, he hated sweet things, but there were times when his eating habits echoed his moods. He blew lightly on the dark liquid and watched the ripples slip across its surface before taking a grinning sip.

Curse him for a sap, but he was _happy_.

Immediately he sobered. Dearka still hadn't returned from wherever it was he'd gone after their bedroom encounter. Yzak froze. At once the silver haired male set down his mug for balance, as a barrage of uncharacteristic laughter threatened to escape his lips and knock him over despite his uncertainty.

Their bedroom encounter.

It was at that moment that Yzak concluded he was not only a sap, but a _giddy_ one at that. He allowed himself a moment of silent celebration before wiping the elated curve off his lips and forcing down the remainder of his coffee. He'd be damned if he was going to start rejoicing now.

"I've never seen you dare to smile like that in the presence of another human being."

The pale Coordinator's limbs turned to ice, but he wasn't really surprised, when he thought about it. Not really.

"That's because right now I wasn't supposed to _be_ in the presence of another human being, Haww." He faced her with a scowl and grumbled, "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Dearka gave me a key," she answered, depositing her bag and keys on the kitchen counter out of habit.

The icy eyed Duel pilot looked slightly helpless. "Tch, I should have guessed. Though I never figured you for the sneaky type."

Miriallia grinned like the Cheshire cat. "I knocked first. It's not my fault if you were too far away in Candyland to hear me."

At once Yzak Jule frowned, irritated that his state of contentment and euphoria had been labeled as "Candyland." He prepared himself for a quick remark, a cutting response to silence her, as was his custom. Then suddenly, he didn't want to shout. He wondered if he really was losing his sanity. He must have been, to regard Haww with such a cool indifference. And to think this – his strange mood - was all because he had been kissed so incredibly by those firm, talented lips…

"Please respond, Duel. We're at Level One battle stations," the former CIC called out in jest. "Are you listening, Duel?"

Yzak wiped the tempting memory from his head. It was clear he'd have to focus on the distraction in front of him before returning to his hazy mind to relive the bedroom scenario. He frowned.

"The term ZAFT uses is 'Condition Red,'" he informed with a glower. "What do you want?" He fixed her with a sneer, but had the sense to pour her a cup of coffee from his freshly made batch. He handed it to her after warning that it was hot, and she took it with a wide-eyed bafflement that rather satisfied him. If he couldn't insult her, he may as well shock her instead. The Natural girl stared at the homely mug, as if the offering might have been some clever ploy to murder her.

"Relax, you fool," Yzak snorted, pivoting angrily on his heel and making for the living room, "I haven't poisoned you, as much as I would have liked to." He collapsed on the sofa and positioned his feet atop the coffee table.

Miriallia hesitated but a moment before lifting the mug to her lips. "You make a good cup of coffee," she complimented, careful to monitor him for the slightest sign of a reaction to her flattery. The silver haired male only waved a dismissive hand and flicked on the television. The brunette wondered why he never seemed to give up looking for new ways to irritate her.

"Look," she gritted, "I'm only here to find out one thing." She really hadn't stopped by with the intention of chatting. Considering it hadn't been long since she'd held her last conversation with Dearka, she was in no shape to be facing the silver-haired creature from her nightmares.

Miriallia sighed. She could mend things, she _knew_ she could, but it was too soon. She watched Yzak's perfect profile as he flipped channels, doing his best not to acknowledge her presence while simultaneously time keeping tabs on her every move. This was the person Dearka cared for. Whether she wanted to face the facts yet or not, the Natural had given Dearka permission to do as he wished - even hinted that if it meant leaving her for Yzak, it would be okay. She had, in fact, purposely nudged the blonde in that direction for his own sake. She'd wanted to do it, but that didn't mean she wanted to confront the pale Coordinator immediately afterward. It was like rubbing salt into her already searing mental wounds.

Yzak growled something unintelligible, clearly irked by her silent hovering. "Well Haww, I'm waiting. Spit it out."

"Dearka is missing."

She observed with a twinge of guilt the way he ceased all movement with a sudden jerk, the way his fingers trembled above the buttons of the remote control. His eyes slipped out of focus, and the blue television screen was instantly forgotten. It was clear he had been in a rare good mood when she'd arrived, no doubt due to whatever had gone on between he and Dearka. Who was she to spoil that contentment, the contentment that she sincerely wanted for them both?

"What do you mean, 'he's missing?'"

She took a deep breath. "Well, he was at my place earlier. Yzak…" The slender male glanced up upon hearing the sound of his name. "He… He really scared me. He said he had somewhere he needed to go, and he just left." She knew the worried frown on her brow made her look vulnerable, but at the moment she didn't care.

Yzak met her serious gaze. He combed her features for any sign of a lie. It occurred to him at once that he had never seen her sport such a troubled expression. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he couldn't.

So, Dearka had left for her apartment after their little bedroom rendezvous. His insides felt bitter, peppered with the harsh spice of betrayal. Why had the tanned Buster pilot gone straight back to his girlfriend, after something so intimate as what had gone on? The barrage of newly hostile feelings assaulted him, and at once the television became a maddening buzz of sound and light, and he craved to hit the nearest hard surface.

"And what was he doing with you?" the silver-haired soldier exploded before he could help himself.

"That isn't the point," Miriallia countered, calmer than she had expected herself to be. "I don't know why he came to see me, seeing as you and he had just…" she trailed off, but not before noticing the sour blush that had appeared on her opponent's cheeks. "He seemed pretty determined about one thing, and that was that he was leaving. He had something important to do. I can't get a hold of him. I can't find him anywhere! I thought he might have come back here."

Yzak felt his temper rising. "As you can see, he hasn't." The reply was curt and frigid.

He'd believed the empty hole in his chest had begun to fill. He'd believed that soon things would be back to normal, like they had been a year ago, in the bowels of the Vesalius. It had been just the two of them, he and Dearka, always together, and he had trusted no one else. He had longed for Dearka all this time. He'd wanted it back, all of it, everything they'd had. And just when he had believed himself to have finally reached that point, to have finally claimed anew all that had been his, the blonde had disappeared.

"What the hell is he _thinking_?" the pale Coordinator erupted violently, springing up from the couch and yanking at his silken hair. Miriallia took a pace backward in fright. "What the hell is that stupid bastard _thinking_?" He could feel his teeth grating together, and he fought to keep the moist droplets of pain and frustration from welling in his clear blue eyes.

"Damn it," he cursed aloud. "Damn it, Elsman. Damn it, damn it, damn it!" His insides ached. He felt cold and hot and flooded with extremities of every sort.

"Yzak…" The Natural supposed she ought to be thanking her lucky starts that nothing had been broken in the midst of his outburst.

"I don't want to hear a word, Haww." He rocketed for the bedroom and came storming back, his jacket and shoes in one hand. "Well, what are you waiting for? That stupid bastard has no doubt gone and done something foolish, and we have to go after him. If you're coming with me, hurry up."

Miriallia bit back a gasp. His urge to hunt down the missing blonde was not what she had expected.

"You're going to follow him?" Her voice cracked. "What if he left because he's gotten tired of us both?" Days ago, the notion would have bothered her, but not so much now. Still, she figured the Duel pilot at least would have been distraught rather than angry, depressed rather than upset, had he suspected the same reasons as she.

"You don't know what Dearka was thinking," she ventured onward, "And neither do I. You don't know if he's gone because of us, or his own confusion, or because of _you_, and you'd still go after him?"

The tears were falling before she even realized it.

Mystified, she brought a hand to her cheek and felt the warm, wet trail on her skin. Now the truth was undeniable. She herself hadn't once thought to go after Dearka, and yet before her was Yzak, thrusting his jacket on over his clothes and preparing to charge blindly out to bring the blonde back. It was an act of selflessness, carried out solely for the sake of the person he cared for most, and proof that the two best friends were connected by a bond she could never interfere with.

She had been selfish enough to assume through it all that _she'd_ cared for Dearka more. Even when she'd decided to hand him over to Yzak, she'd still believed it. Yet in the face of Yzak's obvious sacrifice, the brunette realized she was wrong, and it shamed her to know it. And so the Natural girl cried, silently, quietly.

"You'd go after him even if it might be _because_ of you that he's gone? You'd go even if you didn't know for sure?" She knew what Yzak's decision meant, what it proved, but it was difficult to comprehend the height of the emotions that drove him to do so.

"Your unintelligence and naïveté is showing again, Haww," the irate male spat, tying his shoes next. "If you think Dearka is that shallow, then you really don't know him at all." She sobbed aloud and he tossed a hasty glare in her direction. "He's not like that. He hasn't abandoned us, despite whatever stupid female notions are running through your head right now. He's just an idiot, that's all. And when I catch up to him, I'm going to strangle the damn bastard."

The threat was dark and genuine, but Yzak was surprised to find he had calmed somewhat, though the anxious rock of foreboding still squatted on the floor of his stomach. It wasn't as if the same thoughts hadn't been running through his head. What if Dearka really _had_ left because of something that the pale youth himself has sparked? The Coordinator hurled the idea aside. It didn't matter. He had to find the blonde before he lost him for good.

Then he realized Miriallia was still sniffling. "Stop crying, god damn it," he exploded, tired of the unpredictable, haywire rollercoaster that the girl's reactions always seemed to ride on.

Miriallia forced herself to halt as his command, disgusted with herself while still feeling shaky and unstable. "I _will_ be going with you," she made up her mind. She doubted it would make much difference now, but the least she cold do to redeem herself was to help the pair with everything she possessed.

"Hurry _up_, then," Yzak raged, already at the door.

"Wait," she cried, "We don't know where to start, or whether he's gotten himself into trouble."

Yzak opened the apartment door. "I know where he went."

_A/N: I figured I'd save the commentary for last, so you could just read right away. I'm so sorry I made you all wait so long, I really am. I won't make excuses, since there really are none to make up for this horrible gap in updating. But my goal is not to do it again._

_Er, how was this chapter, anyway? After having left it for so long, I felt like I needed to break the story in again, so I made this a longer chapter and tried to bring the characters through a range of emotions. I especially had fun making Yzak giddy over what happened in the bedroom, even if it was a touch OOC. And Mir… I don't know if she would cry like that, but what's been written has been written… I'll get back into the groove, never fear._


	17. Nostalgia

Yzak closed his eyes, felt the weight of his own tired lids as the harsh light of the shuttle was blocked out only partially. The brightness burned. He lifted a hand to shield himself from its persistent glow.

"Are you all right?" came Miriallia's voice from the other side of the shuttle's close interior. She sounded muted, far away.

The silver-haired Coordinator took a shallow breath, forcing himself to breathe. Damn it, this was no time to start _thinking_.

"I'm fine, Haww," he snapped, "And this is about the seventh time you've asked me that stupid question." He could practically feel her draw farther away in her discomfort, but he didn't care. All he cared about was finding Dearka.

He waited until the throbbing in his temples subsided before opening his eyes again. His blue orbs drifted to the window, and he squinted at the ocean of black that pressed against the glass. It'd been ages since he'd been to space, to the PLANTs. After the war, he'd agreed to follow Dearka and the others to Earth. He'd left everything, even his mother, to stay with all of them. Now he was going back.

If he hadn't been so worried, he might have laughed. He was going back, and it was because of Dearka. The blonde was constantly leading him around, and like an idiot, the silver-haired male followed him and stayed by his side. Come to think of it, it was the same for the blonde as well. Except for the time Dearka had been MIA, the two of them had been together everywhere.

"Damn it, Dearka, I swear if you're dead I'll be right behind you," he muttered, leaning his head back against the wall with a bitter smile. He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he caught the Natural girl's glance of alarm.

"Don't look so shocked, Haww," he murmured, staring her down from under hooded lids, "Where ever he is, he's sure to know I'm thinking that, so he'll be more careful. He knows if he dies and I follow him that I'll throttle him in the after life." He was tempted to laugh at his own sick joke, but he didn't. Yzak shuddered. His stomach clenched, and he decided that laughing would only make him feel sicker.

Mir looked at him, gauging his condition calmly. "Are you going to tell me why you think he's at the PLANTs?" She knew she shouldn't press the matter. Still, she was burning with curiosity, especially after watching in awed fascination as the former Duel pilot had hollered threats in the face of the employee at the shuttle platform. To her horror, he'd come close to foaming at the mouth in his rage, until the timid man had finally agreed to put them in a private shuttle that would launch immediately.

"He _has_ to have gone to the PLANTs," Yzak grumbled in exasperation, as if he'd already told her a number of times. "It's the only place he would have gone if he's trying to do what I think he is. It's where my mother was last, and last I checked a group of Blue Cosmos were threatening her."

His eyes were closed again, and with a little grunt the brunette decided she wasn't going to receive a better explanation.

"You should relax," she urged as kindly as she could. "Just try not to worry too much."

"Relaxing would be easier if you'd shut your trap, you know."

Yzak's chest felt like ice. He didn't want to talk. He was afraid the effort might rip apart his body from the inside. He didn't want to _think_, but whether he liked it or not, thinking was exactly what his brain seemed inclined to do.

What if Dearka really _was_ in trouble? Or dead? Or angry with him? Yzak cinched his eyes shut harder until spots of colored light danced across the velvety darkness and his ears began to ring. With an internal curse, he blocked out such fears. He would not allowed himself to dwell on the present or the future, at least not until they reached Aprilius One. But still, his mind insisted upon action, and so with a hazy sort of defeat he drifted into nostalgia.

He was back on the Vesalius, inside the room that he shared with Dearka. He could have forced his overwrought mind to focus on any other period of time he'd spent within that room, but it seemed natural that he slip into the moment when his relationship with the blonde had really first begun.

"You're such a damned idiot, Elsman!" he remembered shrieking, tearing at his own shining hair in a wild fury. "Why the hell did you defend him?"

The blonde reclined against the wall, allowing his teammate to work out his anger while he waited calmly for the storm to pass. "Athrun was right," was all the tanned male had said, shrugging in that noncommittal fashion that Yzak so hated.

The pale ZAFT soldier recalled spinning around upon processing the remark, dangerous flashes of icy vengeance in his blue eyes. "Please don't tell me you're taking his side." The accompanying sneer was poison.

"I haven't taken _either_ side," the blonde stressed, folding his arms decidedly, "But if you calmed down enough to think straight, Yzak, you might be able to see that Zala had a decent point for once. You must know he made the right decision."

The pale pilot had frozen in shock and disbelief, his mouth partially open in an indignant rage. "Where did that come from, Elsman?" He'd tried his hardest not to explode, only sucked in a ragged breath to keep from bursting at his seams. He'd been genuinely curious as to what had sparked his companion's comment.

The response he'd received had been an awesome blow to his pride. "You're being too hot headed this time, Yzak," Dearka had insisted as gently as he could, "Just take a minute to cool down so we can talk."

Yzak shifted in the quiet of the shuttle, a bitter grimace threatening to sabotage the thin line of his pursed lips. That had been the first time Dearka had readily opposed any of the decisions he'd made.

The silver-haired Coordinator slit one eye open to see the female across from him had slouched over in an attempt to get some rest. He swallowed hard. Sleeping was what _he_ ought to be doing, but his memory was on a vicious route to overdrive.

He looked out the window again, and this time he could see the distant curve of the hourglass PLANTs. They still had quite some way to travel. Yzak clenched his fist and ran his other hand wearily through his thin, straight locks, wishing he had a drink to calm himself as his memory toyed with him.

After Dearka had made the bold statement, Yzak had lost any composure he'd managed to grab hold of.

"_What_ did you say?" he'd shouted, thundering across the room until the two were only inches apart. "I'm too _hot headed_? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He hadn't known exactly when the mood had changed, but somewhere it had. Suddenly the pale soldier had become aware of the closeness between them. He'd realized that his extended anger was fabricated; he'd been over the fury he felt at Zala's decision long ago. Yet he'd kept the pretense flowing, kept his illusion of anger in motion to prevent both Dearka and himself from noticing that anything was wrong. But something _had_ been wrong. Very wrong.

Now he was face to face with the problem, matching the gaze of his violet-eyed compatriot with a growing knot in his stomach that felt somewhat like dread. A _pleasant_ sort of dread, a feeling that he suddenly needed to act on. But Dearka had been first.

"You're not really angry anymore, are you?" he'd asked smoothly, the all-too-familiar smirk plastering itself onto his handsome features, "But you can't put into words what you _are_ feeling right now."

"What I'm… feeling?" The silver-haired boy's head had gone into a whimsical sort of rush, and he couldn't focus due to the cage of fluttering wings that seemed situated square in the pit of his stomach.

"You're an idiot," he'd scoffed instead, promptly shaking the sensation away with a regal toss of his head. "Shut up and help me get the mobile suits…" But he'd never been able to conclude his sentence.

Dearka had seized him by the collar of his crimson ZAFT uniform and hauled him forward, capturing his lips in a bold assault that sent a jolt of wanton emotion careening through every vein in his slender body. He'd quickly given in with an eagerness he'd never known himself to possess. Somehow they'd made it to the hard surface of Dearka's bed, and Yzak tore himself away, breathless.

"Elsman, god damn you." Then he'd had to wait. He'd had to wait and fight the dizzy urge to take hold of the tanned body above him before he could add to his half-formed threat. "This is insane. Did you lose your mind?" The uncaring snicker that came from the blonde had only made him more furious. "This is going to come back to haunt both of us."

But it never had. Yzak grinned with his eyes closed, not caring whether Miriallia was awake to see him or not. No one had ever even had a hunch, except maybe Nicol, but the young pianist had kept his mouth intelligently shut.

Dearka had read him like an open book that day – no, long before that – perhaps even known about Yzak's desires earlier than he himself had dared to.

The silver-haired Coordinator let out a tiny breath of air, shifting in the uncomfortable seat. They'd never had any sort of solid arrangement tying them together other than their friendship, but there was one thing Yzak had always been sure of ever afterward. He'd be damned if he'd ever admit it to a living soul aloud, but those days spent together on the Vesalius with Dearka had been the least regrettable days that he'd ever lived. After that, everything had come crashing down around his crown, yet somehow he had managed to hold on by a thread and resist losing all of what was important to him.

And now, here he was, chasing after the same blonde idiot who'd taken off right in the middle of this new chaos of emotions. Right when Yzak had believed matters to be mending again. All this from the pilot of the Buster who had called him a hot head so many years ago.

Yzak Jule focused his clear blue eyes on the docking station outside the window before rousing the Natural female across from him with a carefully aimed kick. She stirred and rubbed her face.

"We're here," he announced unnecessarily, but he needed the simple detail of the present to draw him fully away from his feverish nostalgia. Before he stood he made sure to stiffen his shoulders and reconstruct his weakened walls.

"Before you do anything, I want you to explain this to me," Miriallia said firmly.

Yzak just eyed her with his usual contempt. "And why's that, Haww?" he asked. "I let you come with me, but I never said anything about doing any mandatory explaining."

Her face darkened with a frown, and at once the opposite male knew she didn't deserve to keep taking the brunt of his own apprehension. Before she could open her mouth he held up a pale hand to quiet her.

"We have time yet. I'll tell you once we disembark."

The shuttle doors opened, and they descended the ramp with grim faces.

_A/N: I figured out why it's been so hard for me to write lately. I've been holding back because now I live with a roommate. By myself, I talk aloud to the characters, work out plot problems aloud, and make little noises and bounce around in my chair, and I throw all my emotion into the words. I can't do that with someone else in the room, because my roomie would get annoyed with me and I'd feel awkward. And also, when she's here she always has the stupid TV on, or her boyfriend n the room, so I have to fight distractions as well… I think I took my own room at home for granted all these years._

_Anyway, I wrote this chapter because my roommate is away for the weekend. I hope I can learn to write when she's here, too, but… I still feel like the writing has more emotion when I'm free to flip out and go nuts in peace._


	18. Drastic Turn

Miriallia watched in silence, trying to appear as inconspicuous and docile as possible as the silver-haired male negotiated with a pair of ZAFT-employed security guards a few yards away. She sighed. They had made it through the busy portal and out into the main building without attracting attention. Then the Duel pilot had jammed his toe on the corner of someone's wheeled suitcase, and the wild curses and shouts that ensued had caused the watchful guards to migrate towards them like a pair of magnets to sheet metal.

The waiting Natural chewed her lower lip, squinting in order to make out the distant expression on her pale companion's face. Yzak radiated confidence, looking haughty as he tossed his head in what was, no doubt, an impatient gesture meant to instill a sense of inferiority in the two older men before him. The brunette resisted the urge to grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. If anyone could get them quickly out of suspicion and into the Council meetinghouse with just one rapid-fire conversation, Yzak Jule could.

At last the silver-haired soldier came striding back, motioning for her to follow him with a slight nod. "They've offered to personally escort us there," he said.

"Is… that all right with you?" she asked afterward, monitoring him from the corner of her eye as they walked side by side. Then she looked over her shoulder and noted the presence of the two guards just a few feet away.

Yzak saw that she'd gotten her answer, but he satisfied her prying inquiry anyway. "Why not? It's the fastest route there at the moment."

She was still fixing him with a look of intent curiosity. He held back an irritated sigh. He knew what the look was for, and he had no desire to expand upon his explanation.

Finally he shot her a dangerous look and sneered. "Yes, Haww, we're getting a ride because I'm Ezalia Joule's _son_. This is the Zodiac Alliance we're dealing with. Throw a couple of big names around and you can get anywhere." His sneer grew, although he wasn't sure if it was from his distaste for their whole situation or the just smaller pang he felt at admitting he'd really done nothing to gain them their means of transportation. "We've probably got Patrick Zala to thank for that," he added with a hiss that he made sure the two guards couldn't detect.

Miriallia said nothing for a time, studying the sour look on Yzak's face. Something in his cold blue eyes stung with a tinge of regret, and though she knew the pale soldier would not have appreciated it one bit, she felt a wave of pity wash over her for his position. She wondered vaguely what it was like to have such an important parent, one that was constantly caught up in council meetings, political campaigns, and business deals, one that spent more time contemplating treaties and laws than with her own son. Then the Natural thought of _her_ parents, kind, loving, and safe on Earth.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Haww," Yzak sizzled, his glare piercing her like a myriad of jabbing pinpricks as they kept walking. "And you had better stop. Just because my mother is on the Council doesn't mean I was a neglected, pathetic child." Then he blinked in surprise as a bout of bubbling laughter reached his ears.

The brunette clapped him amiably on the back, much to the silver head's mortification. "That's exactly what I knew you'd say, so I was trying not to show what I was thinking."

Yzak was at a loss. "Well, you failed," was all he mumbled, and angrily at that, storming ahead of the pack and leaving her with the two guards. Stupid Natural, thinking that just because they had Dearka in common she could pretend to figure him out like a jigsaw puzzle…

Miriallia watched him leave and giggled. But the giggles didn't last long. They had come here to find Dearka, and find him they would, or exhaust themselves trying. This was no time for foolish banter.

Carefully, she thought back over what Yzak had told her outside the shuttle. Her head was still whirling. Nothing _really_ had made much sense. But it was clear that the pale mobile suit pilot ahead of her knew what he was doing. He was one step ahead. She shook her head to clear it. One step ahead and growing farther off by the seconds, actually.

"Yzak, wait," she called, jogging to catch him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

But he brushed her apologies aside with a disinterested flutter of his hand. "Shut up already, will you? It's not as if I haven't heard it all before. And believe me, Haww, I'd be lying if I said that there weren't times when I manipulated my way through things by using that exact belief to my advantage."

At once he clamped his mouth shut, mentally kicking himself for revealing his frequent deception to the mindless female that trudged beside him. The hierarchy of the ZAFT military was nothing that she had any business thrusting her nose into. Perhaps he could blame the missing blonde, for muddling his brain with worry and forcing him to work with the hated Natural in order to locate him. He growled. At least she wasn't as obnoxious as that Athha…

Yzak stiffened. God damn it, he wasn't developing any _soft spots_, was he? Absolutely not. Just because Miriallia Haww had decided to come with him to go after Dearka, just because she had offered him her help, given him the benefit of the doubt even after all that had gone on… Well, it didn't mean he had to _accept_ her disgusting existence, for crying out loud. She was ultimately useless, a complete bother and a waste of his precious time.

"I positively can't stand you, Haww," he confessed aloud for good measure.

A pair of eyes rolled at the announcement. "Thank you for that enlightening bit of information, Mr. Jule."

"Sir," saluted one of the guards, holding open the door to the shiny black vehicle and allowing them to slide inside.

Yzak seemed slightly distracted, so the Natural took the opportunity to climb in first. She called his name, and grudgingly he slid in next to her, though he was still vigilant enough to remember to keep his distance.

"What's the matter?" Miriallia questioned, peering at him as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Broadcast," he responded in a monotone, too plagued by his inner thoughts to attach an accompanying hint of exasperation to his reply. He pointed outside to the screen above the billboard. "News about my mother's being taken hostage. Days old by now."

"And nothing of the sort was ever even shown on the news down on Earth," Mir observed, frowning in confusion. "Why would they keep something like this quiet? It's…" She trailed off, allowing recent events to tumble about in her mind while she attempted to sort them.

The young Natural looked out the window as the car pulled away, and she focused on the sky of the delicate PLANT. For a space contraption that had generated weather patterns, the late afternoon light sure looked realistic. She rolled the window down, and a breeze caressed her cheek. The air was fresh and soothing, reminiscent to that of the wind by a seashore, though she was sure there was no water nearby. The PLANTs certainly were a work of art.

Perhaps it was okay to relax and enjoy the ride. At least, things seemed all right now that the uptight Coordinator had explained what was going on.

"And you're sure your mother will be there when we arrive?" she inquired, seeking to confirm the words the irritable male had spoken to her earlier.

"How many time do I have to _tell_ you?" Yzak frothed, clearly irked by her sudden need of reassurance. "Did you think she wouldn't get _out_ of that situation?" He paused to suck in a breath of air.

He knew his words were far too casual, considering the state he had been in for two whole days while fearing that Ezalia _wouldn't_ be able to free herself from terrorist hold.

"Both you _and_ Dearka seemed to think I was idle during that time, drinking myself silly," he spat, his features twisting into disapproval as he conjured the memory of their jarred, shaken faces in the blonde's living room.

"Weren't you?" Miriallia pried. He couldn't fool her. He'd been a wreck.

"Don't make me accidentally push you from this moving car," Yzak threatened sincerely, finishing his prior thought in the same breath once the warning was complete. "In fact, I was using my influence to the best of my ability, making phone calls and doing whatever I could short of flying directly to the PLANTs in person."

"Why didn't you?"

The silver-haired male paused for quite some time, and at first Miriallia feared that she should not have posed the question in the first place. Finally he answered, in a low voice that the Natural had to strain to hear over the wind that blustered past as they zoomed over the highway.

Yzak hardly dared to move his lips as he offered his simple justification. "Dearka."

She ought to have expected as much. And was it just her imagination, or was the pale Duel pilot being decidedly open with her? Best not press the matter.

The Natural thought she felt a jolt, the byproduct of the pain of losing the tanned Coordinator to the grumbling creature beside her, but she was determined to ignore any such feelings. They were on their way to see Ezalia Jule. The brunette ran a hand through her short hair. She didn't know if it had been the quick response of the PLANTs to the Blue Cosmos threat or Yzak's desperate interference from Earth, but it seemed that the female Council member had been safely recovered and returned to her chair.

Dearka didn't know that yet. And according to Yzak…

"That fool is too rash," the Duel pilot growled, as if picking up her current brainwaves. "If he had just _waited_, I could have _told_ him that I'd taken care of almost everything."

Mir sat up straight, wary. "Almost?"

Yzak glanced at her once from the corner of his eye, but did not offer to expand upon the vague remark.

"In any case," she went on, feeling rather awkward in the silence that followed, "We might run into him soon if you think he went straight to the Council. Still, that doesn't explain why this whole thing has been hushed up, and why they're just airing news of your mother's capture _now_ if it's already been handled."

She caught sight of Yzak's facial expression as it changed subtly, but it was there and gone too quickly for her to register what it meant. She almost let it pass, and then rethought her decision. This concerned Dearka. If there was something important the Jule boy was holding back, she needed to know, whether it would risk making an enemy of him again or not.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" The blood pounded in her ears as she bit her lower lip with bated breath.

A snicker. "Even if there was, Haww, it wouldn't concern you." Insolent Natural. Yzak pinched the bridge of his nose, aggravated. Was there ever an end to the seemingly ceaseless nagging of women?

Miriallia clamped her mouth shut. Just as she'd thought. There _was_ something else, but the Coordinator would tell her in time, if she was at all lucky.

At last they pulled up at the entrance of the meetinghouse. The two guards flanked them as they climbed the ornate stairs and were directed to one of the private offices in the east wing. Yzak swallowed hard as he reached out his hand for the polished knob, with Miriallia close behind him. His mother would be waiting to see him, if all had gone as planned.

While the silver head fidgeted, the brunette glanced nervously at the men that had not left even after Yzak had officially dismissed them. They hovered, ever vigilant. Something wasn't sitting right in the pit of Miriallia's stomach, but she fought the sensation as the silver-haired male composed himself and opened the door to reveal an elegant, impeccably dressed Ezalia Jule perched at her desk.

The elder woman jerked her head up upon the intrusion, catching sight of her son with apparent alarm. "Yzak!" she exclaimed, even as she rose in a manner far too rapid and ungainly to be normal. "It can't… What are you…"

"Mother," Yzak interjected smoothly, as relief washed over his taut features, "I'm here. Didn't they tell you I was on my way?" He opened his mouth to offer more, but he whirled as Miriallia shrieked.

The doors to the office had slammed, shutting the three of them inside with two ZAFT-employed guards that were now pulling guns from their jacket pockets.

Yzak took up a defensive stance, his head reeling. Just what in _hell_ was going on? Then suddenly Ezalia was standing in front of him, arms extended like a shield, and he blinked back his dizziness with startled unease.

"I don't know what you're up to _now_," the elder woman warned the two at the door, "But you'll leave my son out of it." Her chin was raised in a regal glare of defiance, her voice low and perilous. When she spotted Miriallia, her severity grew. "And the girl. I'm sure that whoever she is, she's just an innocent."

The guard on the left laughed – a brutal sounding guffaw. "Oh, neither of those two are so innocent," he cackled, "Especially not your son."

Yzak struggled to maintain his calm. "Mother—"

"Hush, Yzak," she murmured, not once taking her eyes off the two that blocked their only exit. "They're Blue Cosmos."

The silver-haired Duel pilot felt the burn of an inevitable fury course through his nerve endings, and he balled his trembling hands into fists.

"Damn it."

They'd been duped! He'd been lied to – by the ones he had contacted while still on Earth, and now by these two terrorist bastards. He'd even let them drive him to the PLANT Supreme Council meetinghouse! A growl of wrath escaped his lips, and he cycled frantically and automatically through every tactic he could summon from his inner cache of military know-how. How could he get them out? How could they escape without putting his mother in further danger? And could the Natural defend herself alone if it came to it? _Damn it_. Stalling wouldn't save their lives.

The guard that had been silent before now addressed Yzak with a steady smirk. "This might not have happened, Mr. Jule, had you cooperated with us earlier in the game."

He saw Ezalia twinge as she let out a small sound of disbelief and looked at her son with incredulity. The young Coordinator ignored the reaction. This was no time to gamble between placating his mortified mother and getting them out alive. His eyes traveled left, then right, seeking an opening.

But the door opened, and the two men stepped back.

Miriallia removed her hand from over her mouth and let out a cry. "What are you going to…" But she saw the rolling contraption on the floor far too late, as did mother and son in their haste to find a quick exit.

"For the preservation of our blue and pure world," Yzak heard, just as he noticed the pop and the hiss of gas escaping, felt the choking presence of the thick, acrid miasma that clogged his searing lungs.

_A/N: Um. Hopefully that was what could be called a decent chapter, to make up for lost time and wretched lack of updating. I have no excuses this round. Pardon me while I go hide in a hole._


	19. Explosion

There was something hard and cold pressed against his temple. Yzak came to with a deep groan. The harsh white of the lighting seared the back of his eyes as if his lids had been stuffed with hot embers. He didn't want to open them, but the moment his situation registered, he did. Hot embers be damned.

"Mr. Jule," came an unfamiliar sounding snicker. "It's about time."

Yzak kept his head still, unwilling to provoke the owner of the gun that was still glued to his head. Still, he managed to spit a loathsome greeting.

"Who the _hell_ are you?"

"Perhaps the gas is still messing with that intelligent Coordinator brain of yours. Come now, Mr. Jule. Think."

Yzak broiled. He'd just regained consciousness and there was already some bastard getting on his nerves. Brilliant. And why did his head feel like a lead balloon? As his eyes adjusted to the lights, the former Duel pilot looked up at his captive and immediately snarled in recognition.

"Well. If it isn't the wanna-be Coordinator sir Edmond Chambers." At once Yzak received a vicious strike on the side of the head with the barrel of the gun.

His vision flew into disorganized blurs and spirals. He should have kept his mouth shut. This wasn't like him. Since when did he stoop to making smart remarks in the face of danger? He ought to have been conjuring a plan, not hurling insults. He was acting like…

He was acting like Dearka.

"Where's Dearka Elsman?" Yzak gritted through his teeth, ignoring the throbbing in his cranium.

Chambers laughed at him. "Who knows? My concern is with _you_."

Before Yzak could open his mouth in response, Chambers had seized him by the throat and stuffed the point of his weapon beneath his chin. The move was incredibly fast. How could a Natural possibly be so quick? Or maybe he was reacting too slowly… Yzak fought for breath. He desperately needed to clear his head.

Chambers let his lips curve into a smug grin. "You can't run anymore, as you can see," he hissed. "Don't you think it's time you took responsibility for what you started?"

Yzak struggled to move. Within seconds he learned it was futile. He was strapped to one of the ornate chairs from Ezalia's office, though it was clear he had been taken to a storage room of some sort. His ankles were roped to the chair's legs, his wrists cuffed to the rungs on the back. He didn't seem to have feeling in his toes or fingers. He was trapped, and the knowledge that he was helpless set him seething.

"I know it hurts your pride to be held captive," Chambers mocked as if reading his thoughts. The gun barrel was still at his chin. "But try to cooperate for once in your life, Jule, and maybe I'll let you go."

The silver head resolved not to speak a word, but the hatred in his icy eyes must have penetrated Chambers like a knife, because the Blue Cosmos terrorist stepped back and cleared his throat.

"What did you do with the access code, Mr. Jule?"

Yzak hid a snicker of superiority. It appeared he had the upper hand after all. Perhaps his situation wasn't so hopeless.

"I destroyed it, obviously. I already told you that." Yzak received another blow to the side of his head, but he didn't flinch.

"If you lie to me then I'm going to kill you."

Chambers was losing his temper. Yzak watched in content as the man squinted his eyes shut in an attempt to calm himself.

"We need those mobile suits," Chambers said when he could control himself.

"You useless Naturals will never be able to pilot them." Yzak's lips curved into a sneer. He expected to be hit again, but the assault never came. Chambers was laughing.

"We stole the program that can re-write a mobile suit's OS."

Yzak froze.

"I believe you're familiar with one Kira Yamato. During the war, he worked with Erica Simmons to re-design an OS that'd be compatible with Naturals. A lofty feat, and a useful one indeed. It was quite simple for us to hack their main computers and copy the data."

_Yamato_. The Strike pilot. Yzak would have torn out his hair had his hands been free. He knew his wave of animosity toward the other Coordinator was irrational, but he couldn't help himself. Yzak opened his mouth to retaliate, but his words caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him.

There was a hollow noise of an object making contact, then a hanging silence that seemed to last a lifetime as Chambers swayed and crumpled to the floor. Yzak clenched his jaw.

"Don't blame Kira," Miriallia said, her voice shaking as she sidestepped the unconscious terrorist and forced herself to look away. "I admit I missed half that conversation, but you've got this look on your face that says, 'It's all Yamato's fault again.' I wish you'd stop holding grudges."

Yzak Jule, for once in his life, was utterly speechless.

Miriallia dropped the crowbar to the floor and trembled. She'd just attacked a man. Even when she'd been a member of the Archangel crew, she'd never been forced to assault a living person. Well, excluding Dearka.

"Dearka," the Natural female turned inward and muttered to herself, and Yzak finally found his voice.

"Haww. _Haww_. Stop wasting time and _untie me_."

Miriallia felt her concern for the blonde turn into annoyance. "That's it, Yzak Jule? Not even a thank you?"

The silver-haired male clamped his mouth shut. There was no way in hell he would ever admit it, but Miriallia Haww had just rescued him, and he was grateful. The thought that he was indebted to her made him shiver.

"How the hell did you escape?" he asked instead, coolly monitoring her face.

Her features twisted. "I'd rather not discuss that, but I took the gun off the man who was going to tie me, and I threatened to shoot him unless he let me go. We probably don't have much time before he sends someone after us."

Yzak watched her shuffle aimlessly, tugging at her hair and worrying her lower lip. Finally he snickered. "What'd you do, Haww, seduce your way out of your predicament?" She didn't answer him. He wisely decided not to pry.

Then a sudden thought struck him. "Weren't you unconscious from the gas?"

"No, I only coughed a while. Th-they said it was a substance meant to break down the…" She trailed off. She'd been too frantic to remember the scientific jargon she'd heard. But one thing was clear, so she shrugged. "It was only meant to affect Coordinators."

"Untie me." The silver-haired male fought with the bonds at his ankles. His head felt lighter, his thoughts more coherent. Miriallia set to the task at once, and while her fingers picked at the knots, Yzak shot the prostrate figure of Edmond Chambers a shriveling glare.

"I thought that bastard was really going to kill me."

Mir glanced up at him, still working deftly with his bonds. "Well, this guy was so crazy that he might have. He would have killed _me_ back on Earth if you hadn't stopped him. I thought I'd return the favor." She paused and rattled the handcuffs on his wrists uselessly. "I'll bet you were scared."

The retaliation was immediate. "There was no way in hell I was _scared_, Haww." She was behind him now, and he was sure she was making a face.

Miriallia carefully searched the pockets of the man face down and came up with the key to his cuffs. Within seconds Yzak was free, rubbing his aching joints and bounding for the door.

The brunette girl was careful to keep on his heels as they ran. "What about your mother?" she asked.

Yzak shook his head. "She'll be fine. If they've kept her alive this long, they probably won't dispose of her at all."

The two victims sprinted down corridors that should have been peppered with military personal. Their footfalls echoed on the marble. There was no one in sight, but that didn't mean they were not being pursued. Miriallia let Yzak take the lead, since he was cutting corners and barreling through doors like he knew where he was going. The Natural hoped he actually did. She had to have faith in him.

When they burst through the outermost doors into the sunshine, they halted.

"Something isn't right," the brunette said, twirling in a quick circle, searching all sides for signs of pursuers. There was not a soul in sight. "Why? Why isn't there anyone coming after us?"

Yzak overturned a stray crate and rifling through its contents. There had to be a weapon somewhere.

"For all we know," he told the Natural smoothly, "We'll be ambushed within the next thirty seconds." Then, "Damn it, why didn't I think to take his gun?" His curse was vicious. That gas still had a stubborn hold on him. At once he heard a click.

"This gun?" Miriallia did not grin in triumph. She did not raise a victorious eyebrow. She simply handed Yzak the weapon without expression.

He almost couldn't take it. "Haww," he choked finally, "If we get out of this alive, remind me never to speak a single bad word about you again." Oh, that's it. At that moment, Yzak Jule could have vomited. What the hell was he _saying? _He'd wring the necks of the bastards that drugged him.

Had their situation been less grave, Miriallia would have snickered in glee. But for the moment, all she could manage was a sickly inward smile as they sprinted across the paved parking lot and onto the grass. When they'd arrived, the Natural had noticed how well groomed and springy the lawn was. Now she was simply sorry that it gave them no cover.

Her disappointed thoughts were cut short.

A tremor knocked them both off their feet, and the sound of the explosion was so loud that Miriallia could hear nothing in the aftermath. The earth shook, a blast of heat scorched her back. She didn't dare to crawl to her feet until she felt the pelt of merciless debris cease hitting her. When it did, she rolled over, ignoring the minor cuts on her bare arms. Miriallia Haww felt immediately faint.

The PLANT Supreme Council building behind them was a smoking, charred ruin.

Yzak moaned, but he was soon standing. The Coordinator swore, so loudly and with so much fury that Mir managed to make out the word over her ringing ears. Then a flash of movement caught her eye, and her voice escaped her in a broken screech.

"Dearka!"

She saw him – saw him running away from where she and Yzak were fighting to steady themselves. She saw him all the way across the torn up parking lot, which was melted and steaming from the explosive heat. She saw him, and her heart leapt.

Yzak saw him too. The silver-haired male fought the rising emotion that threatened him. Dearka was _alive_. That was enough reassurance to make him forget the building that had been reduced to smithereens. He felt his chest heave with short, ragged breaths. He didn't know if it was panic and shock finally hitting him, or vast, sudden relief. Perhaps it was both.

"We have to go after him," Mir coughed, inhaling too much of the ash rained down like poison. But she didn't move.

Yzak cast a jaundiced eye over the swaying Natural. "No," he growled. "Stay here. We don't know where he's going. You're weak right now." He fought back her protests with a rough shove. She staggered backward onto the grass.

He supposed he shouldn't have lashed out at her, but it was too late for that now. Yzak found his feet had begun to move of their own accord, but he forced them to stop long enough to narrow his blue eyes at her once more.

"If…" Damn it, why did the words want to burn his throat? "If Dearka sees you there, he might get distracted and do something stupid."

"If that's the case, doesn't it go double for you?" The Natural girl's voice was a hollow shriek. "He loves you!"

Yzak froze. _He loves you_.

His insides felt like they were frosting over and his head reeled.

"Yzak!" Miriallia was standing now.

"So help me, Haww," the Coordinator's voice left him in a deadly whisper, "I'm—"

"You're what?" She gritted her teeth, and the tears that coursed down her face left clean trails through the dust that had collected there. "You're going to go all by yourself, is that it? You're not going to let anyone help you?"

Yzak fought for rationality, but lost. "You're just a stupid Natural, Haww. How could you ever understand the way he and I operate?" The words were poison.

It was as though she had been slapped. Mirialla took a step backward. "'I don't understand?'" she hissed. "I don't _understand?_ I'm the only one that _does_ understand! Dearka Elsman means the world to me. Because of that, I… I…" She was sobbing now.

Yzak's face hardened. He didn't have time for this, and his heart was threatening to burst through his ribcage with every aching beat. He thrust the loaded gun into her shaking grasp and whirled before he had to witness her make a further spectacle of herself.

"Take that and don't do anything decidedly _female_," he gritted.

Miriallia gaped, choking on her gasps. He turned his back to her.

"And Haww."

She watched the tension building in his shoulders before he'd even spoken the line.

"Thank you."


	20. Into The Void

_A/N: I'm sorry. I am NOT trying to kill my readers. In fact, I still don't know if it was better to post this chapter right away or not, but… What's done is done. I made everyone wait for so long, it was the least I could do. Also, after I posted the last chapter I was on a role, so…_

Yzak rounded the corner and tried not to bite his lip. He was going to make himself bleed, for crying out loud. He had to keep his head about him. This stretch of road was the last place he'd seen Dearka before he'd lost sight of the quick blonde. The silver head paused and sucked in some much-needed air. He had so many questions to ask — What was Dearka running toward? Did he know Yzak was on the PLANTs? — but if he didn't fight the questions back he'd likely keel over in agony.

The realization that he needed to see Dearka _at that very instant_ hit him like a drop into gravity. He'd been floating in space, careful not to let his mind stray too far into distracting zones, but he simply couldn't muster the strength to remain in safe orbit any longer. He'd come too far. He couldn't lose Dearka Elsman now. Not when Dearka was the only thing in his world worth chasing after. Yzak took a resolute step forward. If he had to burn up in atmospheric re-entry, he didn't care so long as it would reunite him with that stupid blonde.

And then Yzak located him, standing mere yards away on the other side of the nearest warehouse building. The silver-haired male went weak at the sight.

Dearka was standing defensively, and his back was turned. Sweat had soaked into his thin T-shirt, and the cloth had clung to the tanned male's muscled back and shoulders like wet leaves to a windshield. Yzak wanted to run his hands over those smooth, toned curves. He wanted to kiss the back of Dearka's bared neck, slip his fingers through those flaxen locks, anything – just so long as it would prove to him that the vision before him was real.

Yzak held his breath, cursing himself for daring to give in to relief too early. Facing Dearka were three unarmed men, and one with a gun aimed directly at Dearka's heart. They had to be Blue Cosmos. They were far enough away that the blonde might break off and run, but laid out before them was naught but open space. The Buster pilot had nowhere to flee to.

"Why don't you _give up_ already?" One of the men was smirking.

Yzak watched the terrifying scene unfold as colorful specks of something illusionary danced before his sight. He fought to hold on. He ordered himself to think before acting. It didn't work.

"Elsman," Yzak nearly bellowed, his tone frothy and angry as the name left his lips. What a crime it felt to speak with such fury, when all he wanted to do was collapse into the blonde's steady grip. Still, he dared not drop his natural front.

His shout had the desired effect. Dearka turned despite himself, disbelief plastered over his stricken features. The three unarmed men shifted uncomfortably at the appearance of a second foe. The one with the gun brought his weapon to a neutral position when he saw Yzak carried no weapon.

"You must be Jule," the armed man decided. He studied Yzak as the Duel pilot neared. "You're sure lookin' woozy. Supposedly that gas is even worse when it's _leaving_ your system." There were a few scattered cackles.

Yzak was not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing they were right. He shot Dearka a look meant to silence him before fixing the speaker with a glare dipped in vice.

"I have your god damned access code."

"Yzak, wait a sec—"

He didn't want to hear Dearka's voice. It would make him break. "If you say one more word, Elsman, I'll…" But the rest of his threat never came.

A fifth man joined the others just then, dragging in his grasp a screeching, thrashing figure. The man spat and landed his captive a sharp blow to the face, which brought silence, but no relief from the kicking and scratching.

"Can't we fuckin' do something about her?" came the yelp, and at once the nearest man from the group in front of Dearka moved to help still the captive.

Yzak closed his eyes and tilted his head back, an ironic, bitter smile threatening to break loose. And he'd been so close…

"Miriallia," came Dearka's desperate utterance, and the name was like a bullet through Yzak's heart.

"I'm sorry," came the strangled plea from the Natural girl. But the apology was not for Dearka. "Yzak, I'm so sorry!"

The silver head merely sent her a stare brimming with hatred. He could have maneuvered them out of harm's way. Now Miriallia Haww was the added factor he had not accounted for. She was the Wild Card. With her there, Yzak Jule could not predict what Dearka Elsman would do. It wasn't a matter of whom Dearka cared for more. It was simply a matter of _game over_, because there were certain things that couldn't be weighed into the plan and successfully controlled.

"Yzak, listen to me," the Natural female cried out, straining against the grimy hands that held her back. "Don't give up! I don't care what happens to me – I don't care!"

Yzak heard Dearka's sharp intake of breath at the words that left his hysteric girlfriend's lips. The blonde turned to him at once, but Yzak didn't bother to meet the male's violet gaze.

"What were you thinking when you brought her with you, Yzak?" It was almost an accusation.

The tinge of blame in the blonde's voice set him off, but he ached inside. "Don't be dense, you idiot! She came with me on her own."

"Dearka," Miriallia's plea sought the Buster pilot now. "He's telling the truth. It-It's my fault."

The blonde's face softened. "Mir…"

"That's just about enough," said the man with the gun. He nodded at the two holding the Natural. "Let her go with those two Coordinators. They're all as good as dead anyway."

Within an instant the orders were carried out and Miriallia stood at Dearka's other side. Then the gun was raised again.

"The access code?" Yzak reminded coolly, though he knew by now negotiation was futile.

"Nah. We'll get it from Ms. Ezalia like we originally planned. She said she didn't have it, but she was lyin' to protect you, most likely. You shouldn't have decided to hack our files that day. You might not have gotten into this mess."

The barrel of the gun found Dearka's chest again, but then the weapon's occupant thought better of it. With a flick of his wrist, the aim moved to Miriallia.

Miriallia didn't budge. She felt a void, a void that had struck her only once before, on the Archangel in JOSH-A. The ship had been targeted while she sat running the CIC. She'd watched the deadly beam of light near the bridge as if in slow motion. She had known that instant that she was going to die, and it was the same as the void she felt now. Time hung in suspension; feeling and emotion and reality ceased to exist.

In JOSH-A in Alaska, a twist of fate and Kira Yamato in his Freedom had reversed her destiny. She'd lived, but she had not forgotten that void. As she felt its presence this time, the brunette knew that surely she couldn't escape death _twice_. Well, this way she could at last see Tolle again.

Then Dearka moved in front of her. She wanted to laugh_. No, Dearka – stay where you are._ It was over, couldn't he see? She wished he'd step away, because… A bit of emotion pressed its way inside her void, and she sobbed aloud. He didn't even love her anymore. What the hell was he doing?

"You fool," she whispered, gripping Dearka by the arms and burying her face between his shoulder blades. "Why are you so _stupid?_ Are you going to die too? Just like Tolle? I'd rather die myself than face that."

"If you think I can watch them kill you, Mir, you're wrong." The tanned Coordinator's jaw was set firmly.

His words bubbled through her and made her head spin. "Dearka Elsman," she said steadily. "You will not die here. If I wanted you dead because of me, I'd have finished the job myself while you were a prisoner on the Archangel." She felt him shake a bit, and with horror she realized he was chuckling.

"You surprise me more and more every day, Ms. Haww."

He'd said that to her in his apartment that time. She remembered feeling nervous as she waited for his explanation about why she'd had to watch him kissing his best friend. At once she decided it was a silly thing to recall when she might die at any instant.

"_I'm not upset. I don't want you to explain. All I want you to do is tell me what you told Yzak in more detail. Why'd you kiss him?" There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it._

_Dearka's mouth dropped open. "You really don't care that much at all, do you?"_

_She tisked and wagged her finger in front of his face. "Wrong. I do, but I'm giving you a chance to make a decent excuse before I fly off the handle. Don't blow it."_

"_You surprise me more and more everyday, Ms. Haww."_

Dearka had promised her that day. He'd said he'd never leave her. It didn't matter that his feelings for her had become muddled since then, didn't matter that now he was changing his mind and insisting on dying for her sake. All that mattered was that they had those fond memories. A tear squeezed its way from her eye.

"You'll protect the girl?" asked the man with the gun. "No matter what?"

Miriallia squinted her eyes shut and clung to Dearka harder. She felt him nod at the same time she heard Yzak make a little sound. The breath of air from the silver head's lips said, _Such is the inevitable_.

The gun went off.

Too late, Dearka Elsman dove away from Miriallia and to his right, where Yzak Jule was standing. Too late, Miriallia Haww realized what the armed man must have been thinking all along.

Yzak Jule was going to die.

The bullet flew toward him slowly, sucked forward as if his body were a black hole. Is this what it felt like to watch life draw to a close? Yzak could have laughed, had he the gall to do so. A shame he was not dying on the battlefield instead. His pride might have been able to handle it if he had gone down like Nicol, or maybe Miguel.

No, wait – that was wrong. Yzak didn't want to die like them. The _Strike_ had killed both of them. A wry smile curved his pale lips. With his grin in place, Yzak supposed that maybe dying this way was okay after all. Dearka and Miriallia could use the confusion afterward to escape. At least he'd been allowed to see that stupid blonde one last time, right? Besides, he had known this moment was coming all along. The moment the gun had been aimed at Miriallia, Yzak had seen it for the deception it was. They'd wait for the right moment and shoot at _him_.

Such was the inevitable. He hadn't protested, because he hadn't had the heart. A different Yzak Jule might have fought until his dying breath. But this Yzak Jule had died inside a good minute before the trigger had been pulled. The moment Dearka had stepped in front of Miriallia Haww, the choice had been made. But not just that.

Dearka Elsman was the sole human being that Yzak cared for enough to die for. It really was quite a simple explanation.

The bullet hit its mark.

A feminine shriek assaulted his ears, and at once Yzak's mind focused. He could feel the oxygen whooshing through his lungs. He… He was alive? But _why_?

Miriallia dropped to her knees, her head in her hands. Horror and fear and desperation screwed her face into a frightful display, and her cry tore the air as if the PLANTs themselves were ripping apart, all of them at once, like Bloody Valentine multiplied over and over.

"DEARKA!"

Yzak Jule was being sucked into the freezing, dead realm of outer space even though he still lived, just like those on Junius Seven that day. _No_, he thought vaguely, and then he couldn't bear to think any more. Dearka's dark blood stained the pavement.


	21. Dearka

Miriallia was still sobbing, bent over and clinging to Dearka's crimson tinted shirt. If she let go, would Dearka die?

The bullet had pierced the Buster pilot below the ribcage on the right side. It might have punctured Dearka's lung. Dearka would suffocate to death that way. Yzak went numb. He might as well have been suffocating himself.

Not one of his limbs would stir. His nerves went stagnant. There was a commotion behind him, and the sound of two men pulling guns from within their jackets. Two clicks, and Yzak heard the voice of the man that had shot Dearka cry, "What are you doing? All this is for the preservation of our blue and pure world!"

"We aren't Blue Cosmos, we're ZAFT," a new voice answered. "We infiltrated and joined Chambers to overtake you. Now, drop the gun."

Yzak heard the sound of a vehicle fast approaching. Doors slammed. Voices shouted commands. The silver head was oblivious to it all.

"Hurry and search the area."

Yzak blinked at the sound of the female command.

"Alert the Chairman. See these men are arrested." Somewhere through his haze, the silver-haired male recognized the bark of his mother. Heels clicked on the pavement. There was a shifting of position in the men behind him as they moved aside.

"Is that Tad Elsman's son? What's happened here?"

Yzak felt a hand on his shoulder. Ezalia Jule shook him gently.

"Yzak, are you all right?"

Someone must have led her away when he refused to answer, because soon it was quiet. Or maybe he had left the realm of normal human beings and transcended into the muted half-hell where Dearka must have been.

This couldn't be happening. A wordless yell rose up inside the dim-eyed male, but his jaws were locked and it could not break loose. If it did, he might never stop yelling. His icy eyes found Dearka's face, pinched and frantic with physical pain, but whether the Coordinator was unconscious or not was impossible to determine. Somehow Yzak Jule mustered the strength to curl his fingers into fists. The person on the ground should have been him, not Dearka Elsman.

Yzak's breathing transformed into something inhuman — something born of dread and augmented by wrath. The breaths were irregular, ragged, violent. He swallowed. He could see Miriallia still sobbing with her knuckles white where they gripped the blonde's shirt, but he couldn't hear anything in his haze. It was like watching a scene unfold through glass.

He was so, so numb. But within an instant, the fury grew and Yzak located his outlet. He whirled on the two ZAFT men that had been acting as Blue Cosmos.

"Why didn't you do something sooner?" Yzak demanded, his voice a perilous level of calm and control. Then the inquiry became a roar. "_Why didn't you do something sooner?_"

"W-We risked all we could under the circumstances, Mr. Jule, Sir…"

"You _bastard_," Yzak shrieked, seizing the man by his collar and hissing in the soldier's stricken face. "What the _hell_ makes you think you had the authority to—"

"Yzak." Ezalia pried her son's hands loose, and the soldier under attack collapsed, fighting for air.

Her lips were a thin line. She had to wait for Miriallia's wails to quiet before she could speak. "I couldn't tell you about this when you arrived, Yzak. It would have given away the game. I didn't know my son was going to show up at the PLANTs."

The Duel pilot trembled. He'd been completely, utterly useless. His mother could have escaped without his help from the very beginning. "You never needed me," he croaked, hating her with every ounce of his dark energy.

"That's not what matters. What matters is that you came to me despite all that." She moved to embrace him. Something inside Yzak recoiled, and he knocked her open arms away. He felt her observing him, but finally she said to her two men, "Get the Elsman boy to a hospital."

If the ambulance ride had been hell, waiting for news from the operating room was hell multiplied to levels unimaginable.

Ezalia had left at the scene to alert Dearka's family of the horrific occurrence. She'd also agreed to leave word at the Attha Estate and with Ms. Clyne, in hopes that the urgent word would get through. Meanwhile, Yzak had unleashed his terror on the ZAFT soldiers that offered to accompany him to the hospital, refusing to allow them to give him a personal escort. The sole creature he had allowed into the ambulance beside him without protest was Miriallia Haww, and she had ridden in traumatized silence the whole way. Now they sat on opposite sides of the hospital waiting room, and still she hadn't spoken a word.

Yzak couldn't yet piece together a coherent thought. He was all anxiety, consumed by dread and being eaten by despair.

Miriallia had her feet up on the sofa, her head between her crooked knees. She didn't know how much time had passed since they'd arrived at the hospital. She wished the void she'd feared earlier would swallow her up. When the doctor came out to speak with them, she couldn't bring herself to lift her head. Yzak stalked off, his footsteps heavy like a creature half-dead, and she waited.

"_What?_"

The Natural's keen hearing picked up the sound of a crash, glass hitting the floor, a short scuffle. She blocked her ears, an attempt at tuning out the melee, but to no avail.

"What do you mean only a _twenty percent chance?_ He's a _Coordinator,_ you idiot!" Yzak's voice was livid and desperate.

Soon the silver-haired male was storming back into the waiting room. "Haww," he began in a choked monotone, but she cut him off without looking up.

"I heard."

"Do you want to see Dearka?" he asked her next.

She shook her head. "You go. I-I can't. Not now."

Yzak Jule snorted and went. She was still trying to play the noble sacrifice.

The room Dearka had been stationed in was shrouded in darkness. The nurse had flicked off the overhead lights. Yzak found his eyes were drawn to the twinkle that shone from the window. It was a street lamp, flickering outside by the road. The silver-haired male started with a jolt. Had night fallen already?

Just then, his composure drained from him. Little by little, the mortar that had held him together began to crumble, and he collapsed wearily onto the stool by the bedside. He thought about closing his eyes, but the sight of Dearka's blank face seized him with an invisible force, and he couldn't look away.

God, even when he had just a twenty percent chance of living, Dearka Elsman was beautiful.

Yzak sagged forward, catching himself on the edge of the bed just in time to keep his body from pitching over. An aluminum fist had twisted around his heart, and it was squeezing the hope from him bit by aching bit.

"Dearka." The name tumbled from the pale soldier's lips. It felt so relieving to say it, even though it came muffled from within the sheets. He swallowed hard.

After a time, Yzak lifted his head. Their faces were close now — Yzak's strained and pale, Dearka's waxen and unmoving. The Duel pilot reached out to brush aside a loose tendril of the blonde's flaxen hair, and then he was running his fingers through it in earnest, savoring the sensation.

"You bastard, Dearka." The words left him curt and sour as he spat them through gritted teeth. But he sobered and fixed the deaf figure with a miserable half-grin, his fingers still entangled in the tanned male's hair. "I can't lose you."

He paused, monitoring Dearka's form on the bed. If he was expecting a response, he knew he would not be getting one. So why did he suddenly feel so desperate? Yzak's hands tightened on the sterile sheets. He needed something to ground him, and quickly, before he erupted into a wild fit of hopelessness.

"Just what do you think you're _doing,_ anyway?" He was boiling over. "You think you can _die_, Elsman? Why are you so god damned stupid?"

Then the pale Duel pilot clamped his mouth shut. He was being irrational. Yelling at an unconscious patient would have no effect.

No, no, no — the blonde was so much more than just another patient. Yzak felt his chest give way; he was falling apart inside. He was losing himself in his grief. He couldn't give up yet, because in the dark on that wretched bed in front of him was the person he _loved_, damn it.

Yzak swore he felt a static bolt just then.

He had said it. He had admitted to it! There was no denying that he felt such a potent attachment. _He loved Dearka Elsman._

Oh, what a fine time for such a lovely epiphany. The realization made him want to snicker.

But the knowledge the silver head had triggered seized him like a thin wire about the neck, and it choked him the more he contemplated it. No, he didn't want it to be true. Not more heartache.

He had gone through enough as it was, _without_ loving Dearka. The idiot was difficult enough as a mere _friend_, never mind trying to classify the strange suspension between friendship and love that had already kindled. To admit now that it was even _more_ – real, fervent love – that would simply hurl the silver head into a new realm of desperation.

Yzak clenched his jaw. How foolish he had been! His mixed feelings for the blonde had already caused trouble enough. And now he was supposed to accept that he _loved_ his former teammate? Like hell.

But there was no use denying fact, and Yzak Jule knew it. Suddenly, he couldn't bear to remain seated. He flew up from the stool like he'd been jerked to his feet on strings. He prowled the length of the floor like a restless beast. Every action he'd taken within the past week replayed itself mercilessly through his inner mind.

At once, he made sense of the heightened pleasure he had felt when Dearka had kissed him during their game of Spin The Bottle. He recalled the flutter deep in his stomach and the thud behind his ribcage when they'd been alone that night after visiting the landlady. He thought of the peace he'd found in those strong, tanned arms after he'd gone and drunk himself silly. Then the determined massage that followed, seductive and pleasant as the blonde worked away two days of weariness, and Yzak remembered the empty feeling afterward. He'd felt like something was missing then.

That something had been discovered along the way, but only now it was making sense to him. It explained why - though his recent encounters with Dearka had been as gratifying as those in the past – this time they'd felt more intense, more _real_. It was because Yzak, with all his body and soul, loved Dearka Elsman to the point of what was surely genuine madness. That love had reinforced the chains that shackled Yzak to him, and now, inevitably, he would suffer under the weight of the cursed feeling.

The silver-haired male felt faint.

Where had it gotten him? This feeling had made a fool of him! He'd let his jealousy run rampant, and he'd allowed his own selfish wants and needs eclipse those of Dearka. Yzak's fist found the wall, and the resulting tremor set his arm prickling with pain. All this time, he had thought Dearka to be the inconsiderate one at fault for tossing around emotions, and for inspiring confusion in all of them. Damn it, it took two! And now Dearka was paying the price for what was just as much Yzak's doing.

But if that was true, then… Why did Dearka dive forward to save him? When Yzak had faced that gun barrel, he'd accepted that he would perish knowing Miriallia was the one Dearka had chosen to protect.

The silver-haired Coordinator brought his fingers to his temples. His forehead throbbed. He didn't want to think. He couldn't find the answers. Dearka was prostrate on the hospital bed with his precious life ebbing away, and he was utterly powerless. Something in Yzak snapped.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking, Elsman," he shouted into the silent room. "But what gave you the right to throw your life away, damn it? What the hell was dying for me supposed to accomplish?"

What had Dearka really wanted? What had the blonde yearned for from the beginning? Yzak didn't know, and the realization that the truth was evading him hurt.

"For your god damned information, Elsman, I suppose you got what you wanted." Yzak couldn't stem the bitter flow of words. "You wanted me to get along with Haww, didn't you? Well, you should fucking congratulate yourself. Your girlfriend is one unyielding piece of work." He sneered.

It was true. Perhaps it was because they'd been forced to cooperate to look for Dearka, but he and the Natural girl had shed whatever traces of animosity they'd previously held on to. Perhaps it was because they'd realized they possessed the same raw feelings. They'd reached a level of understanding. Finally, their personal desires had ceased to matter. There was only Dearka Elsman, and knowing that, they had been able to set aside their rivalry. Of course, Yzak was never going to _like_ Miriallia Haww, but at least he could respect her from a distance without flinching at the notion. A stunning feat, if he had anything to say about it. And it probably had something to do with how she saved his life, but Yzak deemed the detail currently irrelevant.

His concern now was with the motionless Dearka. Yzak wanted to tear at his disheveled hair, or to grind his teeth together, or to yell until the blonde awoke. But the urge fled him in one tired wave. He sank back onto the stool.

"Please," he let slip before he could help himself. He knew he was getting too emotional. He was making himself vulnerable. But…

But was it really so wrong to love someone to the point of exhaustion? If it was Dearka Elsman, Yzak was sure the laws of destiny could forge him an exception.

His whole body trembled. "Dearka, so help me, you had damn well better wake up. If you die, you bastard, if you die and don't ever come back, I'll…" The silver-haired pilot couldn't finish. If Dearka left him alone, he would surely break.

Yzak's last morsel of energy left him. He expired with a dizzy sort of sigh, and his breathing slowed. It was pitch black outside but for the single street lamp, and he heard not a sound. He needed to stay awake.

He cursed his weakened body. The silver head had gotten no rest since his stolen nap on the shuttle to the PLANTs, but now was not the time to lose his vigilance. Only a fool would dare to sleep in the midst of such a crisis. He needed to be alert in case Dearka chose to defy statistics and regain consciousness. But…

All the sleepy Coordinator could manage was one more desperate confession, muttered into the mattress with sturdy conviction.

"You can't leave me, you idiot, because I love you too damn much."

Within minutes, he'd fallen asleep with one arm draped unconsciously over Dearka's still form.

_A/N: I may have dragged this chapter out unnecessarily. But I think I've managed to get us back on track in terms of mood and tone. 'Bout damn time we returned to the angsty norm, yes?_

_By the way, what do you guys _think_ of the turn this has taken? I'm sure you can guess that everything will be all right in the end, but still… I'm a little worried by the lack of response. (Many thanks to those of you that _have_ dropped a review though, upset or otherwise.) Don't hate me, dear readers, for ALL IS WELL AGAIN. I'm nearing the home stretch and even updating in a timely fashion for once. D-Don't get mad, get glad!_


	22. Time To Heal

Miriallia Haww woke to find Yzak was gripping her shoulder, working to rouse her with a rude shake. The first thing to begin aching was her back. She never should have fallen asleep sitting up. And it was light outside now, judging by the rays of yellow sunshine that striped the front of Yzak's shirt.

Apparently, she wasn't awake enough for the silver head's satisfaction. He lifted her chin with his hand, roughly, and her eyes flew to his.

"Haww. Get a hold of yourself." For a moment she thought he was going to hit her.

What a nerve the Coordinator had to accuse her of being distant. The brunette could see right through him. Yzak's voice came out strained and shaking, and though he was gazing at her with his icy eyes and issuing an order, it was as if he looked right through her. For that reason only, Mir did not snap at him.

"What's the matter?" Her breath caught in her throat. Maybe she didn't want to know. Then again, if the blonde had left this world as she feared, surely Yzak Jule wouldn't have woken her so coolly.

"The doctors said his condition has stabilized. He's not out of danger, but his chances have drastically improved." Yzak's words sounded hollow to her ears, more like he was delivering a routine report than conveying positive news.

She stood and brushed herself off. That wasn't all that was wrong.

"But what else?" she asked.

Yzak released her and averted his eyes. "It's got nothing to do with you." Then he seemed to look at her afresh, and his lip curled. "Haww, you're an absolute mess."

She started. "I-I never washed up last night. The nurses wanted to clean my cuts and my face for me, but I wouldn't let them."

He snorted and folded his arms. "Bathroom's down the hall to the left. Go use it, for the love of ZAFT."

She watched him wordlessly. Yzak now stared out the window, barely breathing. He'd managed to include his usual insolence in his speech, but… Something told the Natural female that Yzak had fallen into a deeper despair than she had. Perhaps Yzak was weaker, or maybe he loved Dearka more. A bolt of their former rivalry jumped at her, but she tossed it aside. They were far beyond that.

Miriallia almost smiled. Dearka had gotten what he wanted after all. She and Yzak now shared a mutual respect. She took a bold step forward and hugged the Coordinator carefully.

Yzak's eyes flashed and flew wide; his body tensed from crown to soles. "You will let go of me _right now_," he warned, "Or I will _throw_ you off."

Miriallia shook her head. "I won't."

Yzak winced. What the hell was _wrong_ with women, anyway? He seized the Natural by her upper arms to shove her away, but he hesitated too long and the motion turned into naught but a gentle push when his will ebbed. He kept his hands where they were and squeezed too tightly, frustrated by his susceptibility, and chose instead to remain still. He cursed himself while she prolonged his agony.

But it had been a bit _too_ long after five or six seconds. "Haww," he choked, and she finally drew away. The Coordinator glared daggers at her. "You had better invent a damn good reason for that intrusion of personal space."

Miriallia noticed he sounded empty again. "I thought maybe if Dearka knew we didn't hate each other, he'd decide to wake up." Her voice cracked mid-sentence.

"Just go in and see him before the doctors decide visitors will be in the way," the silver-haired male breathed, sinking into the spot she had previously occupied and motioning with his hand. And there he stayed until the Natural returned.

Miriallia was there and gone in what seemed only seconds. The rumples across the sheets of the hospital bed had told her that Yzak had fallen asleep at Dearka's side. The thought warmed her. The blonde had been in need of someone to guard him during the night, and she was glad that Dearka hadn't been alone. As for the tanned male's current condition, what was she to say? He was silent, unmoving, frozen like a corpse. She had leaned over to kiss his deadened lips, and he had not reacted. He didn't reach up to catch her hand when she ran her fingers over his chest and felt the ridges of stiff, starchy bandages. Before she could let the tears begin to fall, the brunette had resolved to make her way back to the waiting room.

Minutes masqueraded as hours while she sat there with Yzak, each of them with separate thoughts. Separate, but more than likely eerily the same.

"Miriallia," Yzak said without warning, and her head jerked up.

For one fleeting moment, she managed to forget that the man she cared for was teetering on the brink of death. Her full attention was on the mobile suit pilot.

"You just addressed me by my first name, Yzak Jule." Her heart was in a wretched jumble thanks to Dearka's condition, but her hearing was not so dysfunctional.

She watched him falter. Whatever the silver-haired Coordinator had been planning to say had fled him. At once Miriallia realized she probably shouldn't have drawn attention to his slipup.

"Don't get cocky," Yzak retaliated when he'd regained his senses. The wall he'd carelessly let crumble was rebuilding itself with frightening speed. "Anyone can see I'm not thinking straight at the moment. I hope you don't feel special just because I—"

Miriallia cut him off, and her irritation bubbled forth. "Relax, Jule, I was only surprised. For once in your life you started to speak to me without pushing me away, but now you're back to snapping and insulting and lying through your teeth."

The Coordinator blinked, momentarily mute, so she ploughed on.

"If you can't learn to let go of that pride of yours, how do you expect things will go when Dearka wakes up?" She didn't say _if_ he woke up. She couldn't. "It'll be just like before. He won't know how you feel and his emotions will be a mess. That's like a living hell, do you know that? Not knowing how someone else feels about you."

For a moment, Yzak considered with a sneer on his thin lips. Then, softly, "I know that, Haww." Something in his chest tightened. He knew it better than anyone. His answer must have satisfied her sufficiently, because she clamped her mouth shut. Convinced that she was ready to converse politely, the silver head started over.

"I'm going to tell you how I got into this mess." She froze in shock and turned her whole body sideways to peer at him. He bit back a growl. "If you're going to look at me like that, you can just forget it."

"No," she said, "Talk."

Yzak resisted the urge to strike her. Damn her for hugging him, and damn her for ordering him around. If he was going to muster restraint enough to explain, he had damn well better do it before he lost his patience once and for all.

"I'd been searching around in the Council's files for some time before any of this happened," Yzak said, his eyes glazing as he recalled the nights spent before his laptop in his small apartment. That apartment back on Earth now seemed light years away. "I knew something was wrong at the PLANTs, because my mother was quieter than usual. The first thing I found was an access code, but I didn't know what it was for."

Miriallia listened to the bitterness that crept into his tone. She couldn't believe he was telling her, at last, after she'd asked him so many times for an explanation. It struck her suddenly that Yzak's surrender might not be a good sign.

"I put two and two together and realized that the increasing rate of Blue Cosmos attacks on Earth was somehow corresponding with the silence in the PLANTs. Then I ran across a few of Chambers' men in the park, like I told you and Dearka."

_Chambers_. Miriallia shivered at the hated name. Was he dead now, or had he escaped the meetinghouse's explosion with his miserable life?

Yzak's face reflected the same loathing. "When I heard them talking about an access code, I had to do _something_."

"So you _attacked _them?"

The Coordinator sighed in aggravation. "I'm not a barbarian, Haww. I took a shot at negotiating first. It didn't work. And those stupid Natural bastards were sharper than I thought. They realized I wouldn't have known so much if I hadn't already had the access code myself."

Yzak looked agonized, as if he knew he'd been overconfident but still couldn't bear to belittle himself in front of her. Mir finished his thought without laying the blame directly onto him.

"They hunted you down after that, because they figured the easiest way to the PLANT Supreme Council was through you, since you were Ezalia's son."

The silver head nodded. "But when I made it clear they'd get nothing out of me, they moved faster than I thought was possible with their technology. They found another way before I realized what was going on." He grimaced. "Maybe I was preoccupied, because by then I'd discovered what the access code led to. Information about a new line of assault mobile suits." The grimace was dangerous now. Mobile suits signified battle, bloodshed, and war – all things that any retired ZAFT soldier would rather forget.

But Yzak pressed it from his mind. "I'm sure the reason no news reached us from the PLANTs was because the Blue Cosmos had already seized control and were monitoring the satellite signals. And when we finally took off for the PLANTs ourselves, Chambers must have realized how much I'd figured out. He had no choice but to air the news on the video screens at the PLANTs, late or not. Otherwise it would look too suspicious. And we fell for his trap. They still blew up the Council meetinghouse."

The Natural girl absorbed the story with a thoughtful frown, grateful to have something other than Dearka to focus on. Her respect for the Coordinator race shot sky-high again after Yzak's story. How difficult it must be, to be detested and terrorized by a merciless organization that refused to discriminate between innocent and guilty. She remembered JOSH-A again. The former CIC supposed that the Earth Forces hadn't been much better than the Blue Cosmos at that point. Even now, after the war had ended, there was no one to stand up for the PLANTs but the Coordinators themselves. It was clear why Yzak Jule would have been seized by such determination, why he would have chosen to fight Chambers quietly and efficiently.

Miriallia still had one more nagging thought.

"Yzak, none of that explains why _Dearka_ left for the PLANTs first, and how you knew he'd gone there when I told you he had disappeared."

A wry smile curved the edges of the Duel pilot's lips. "I know him better than anyone else in this world, Haww. I knew if he'd gone somewhere without telling me, it would have been for something important. That stupid idiot tells me all the things I _don't_ need to know, like when he's going to the _bathroom_." Yzak's pale features twisted into disgust. "The only time he doesn't do so is when he doesn't want me to figure something out. And use your brains, Haww — my apartment had no locks for a good amount of time. No — that wouldn't have even made a difference. Dearka has had his own keys to my god damned apartment for years. He could have read me like a book and realized I'd been hiding something, then gone to investigate. The timing, the suddenness of his departure… there was only one reason he could have gone, and one place for him to go to. So I knew."

The silver-haired pilot rested his eyes and dropped his head back, letting a cold snicker escape his lips.

"Elsman must have known from the very start. The only thing that kept him from taking action on my behalf sooner was my unpredictability. He didn't know what I was going to do. But after my mother was taken captive, he made up his mind anyway."

"He was right," Miriallia cried, striving to keep the accusation from becoming a shrill holler. She was horrified. "Dearka was right! Why didn't you ask for his help from the beginning? If he cared about you enough to do all that on his own, don't you think he deserved your trust?"

The silver head had endured just about enough. "I already feel like shit for it, Haww," he announced. Then he stood up. "You know that. You were in the apartment when Dearka called me there and told me the same thing."

Yzak smirked in triumph when she bit her lip and fell silent. But Dearka's plea for his trust that day had hit him hard. The Duel pilot struggled to maintain his composure. Everything, every last thing that had befallen the blonde since then had been because of him. His temper had made him act without thinking, and now Dearka might not even live to blame him for it.

Yzak whirled on his heel and stalked off.

"Wh-Where are you going?" Miriallia asked in astonishment.

"To apologize to that idiot in case he dies." Yzak spat the reply with all the bite of his typical tartness, but his insides were knotted and he had to fight for breath.

This might be his last chance to make amends with the tanned Buster pilot. It no longer mattered whether Dearka was conscious or unconscious when he did so. The greater concern was whether the blonde was alive or dead. Yzak hurried his pace.

_A/N: So now that questions have been answered and our two rivals have accepted each other, you can guess what's coming next, yes? Jolly good. Also, if I neglected to clear anything up and you still have questions, don't be afraid to pose them. I want to make sure I don't miss any loose ends in the story. I'll update soon. :)_


	23. The Fallen

_A/N: Since words cannot fully express my gratitude (and since too much gushing would delay the story), I simply have one thing to communicate. This chapter_ would not be here_ if it weren't for _**Juniper35**_, because I could not have written it well due to problems that I ran into. If you enjoy the chapter, direct your thanks to her._

When Yzak walked in, Dearka was conscious.

Yzak supposed he must have made some quiet, strangled sound of astonishment, because the nurse looked up. She was lifting an untouched breakfast tray from the bedside table, but upon his entrance she straightened and fixed him with a tired smile.

"I can give you a while to visit," she said, sliding past the silver-haired male on her way out. "But Mr. Elsman, you really should eat at some point."

Dearka raised his head, looking groggy. When his eyes traveled to find the nurse, his violet orbs fell instead on the Duel pilot.

"Y-Yzak…"

"Fifteen minutes, you two," the nurse told them. "Mr. Elsman is far from healed." She closed the door behind her.

Yzak felt something burst inside his chest. Whether it was tremendous relief or righteous anger, he did not know. He wanted to tell himself that the scene he was witnessing was impossible, that he shouldn't get delusional. Quickly, he rearranged his facial features into a typical frown and crossed his arms.

"I see you're awake." He studied his best friend's face in the morning sun. The blonde's skin appeared closer to its natural hue now, but it could have been a trick of the light. In any case, Dearka was sitting up with his back propped against the pillows. He appeared slightly the worse for wear, but he was unmistakably _alive_. Yzak's heart fluttered.

One corner of Dearka's mouth quirked into a curve. "I'm awake. But you look like you're sour enough to put me back to sleep. Would it kill you to act a little more enthused?"

The blonde must have seen the flash of anger in his friend's icy eyes, for he fell silent.

"Enthused, Elsman?" Yzak gritted his teeth. "You want me to look _enthused_? You had a twenty percent chance of living. You were a complete and total idiot. And now you have the gall to joke around. Do you expect me to be jumping for joy?"

"Christ, Yzak, can't a guy in the hospital catch a break?" But the line was not delivered with its usual caustic humor.

Dearka leaned his head back on the pillow and his eyes drifted closed. His face was pinched and strained, and for a moment he appeared as if he wanted to speak further. He didn't.

Yzak felt his resolve crumble as he watched his former teammate's inner struggle take place. Carefully, he risked a step forward. The blonde remained statuesque. The silver head could feel his heart disobeying him, beating madly even when he ordered it to stop. Speaking to Dearka after such a period of uncertainty, after a sleepless night laden with angst and worry and raw emotion… It nearly slaughtered every inch of his resolution. He let his eyes sweep over the blonde's perfect cheekbones, his firm, commanding lips. At once he was seized with the urge to tell Dearka everything, but he refrained. Then the tanned male spoke.

"Yzak. I-I'm glad you're not dead." The blonde did not open his eyes, but threw a weary arm over his closed lids.

Yzak Jule monitored the rise and fall of the sheets that hugged Dearka's bandaged chest. His breathing was labored, slow.

"I guess I know I did something right if you're not even hurt."

"Y-You…" Yzak swallowed. When he could tame his tongue long enough for it to cooperate, he would try to speak again. Until then, he could only curse himself for his loss of words and etch a deeper scowl onto his features. Confusion and guilt assaulted his senses. Then suddenly the silver-haired mobile suit pilot found his voice. He exploded into a tirade of insults.

"You fool! What the hell is wrong with you? You almost died, Elsman. _Died_. What makes you think you have a right to worry about me? _I'm_ fine. _I_ can handle myself." He was on his feet again, pacing at the foot of Dearka's bed. "What you did back there was the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do. You didn't survive the damn war so you could throw your life away later."

The blonde was watching him through narrowed eyes. "But you did?"

Yzak froze, one hand tightening around the bedpost. "If I decide to die, Elsman, than that decision is mine alone. Fuck you for interfering." He didn't like the taste of the words on his tongue, but he said them anyway.

Dearka's response was quick and harsh. "You gave up on me, didn't you? You thought I was so preoccupied with protecting Miriallia that I didn't realize who the real target was just like you did."

Yzak trembled, but returned to Dearka's side with his fists tightly clenched. He stared Dearka down. Ice blue eyes met warm violet ones as Yzak towered over the wounded Buster pilot from his standing position. It was now or never. He might as well demand answers. He opened his mouth to snap a reply, still with wintry daggers in his glare.

But the rage drained out of him. The angry heat subsided. His fists unclenched, his brows unknotted, his shoulders sagged. He sank onto the stool and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids.

Dearka took a steadying breath. "I was almost too late to save you, and I know that." He paused. "And I'm sorry. God, when I woke up I didn't know if I'd succeeded or not. Then you walked in and I knew everything was all right. Damn it, Yzak, don't you dare accuse me of being stupid, you got that? You're the stupidest one of all."

The bedridden Coordinator sat up straight, his brow dark with fury. Yzak turned white.

Dearka nearly yelled. "Yzak! You're stupid for giving up. You're stupid for losing faith in me. Didn't I tell you I'd be there no matter what?"

Yzak slammed his fist onto the bedside table, tears of frustration collecting on his lashes. "What's wrong with _me_ trying to be there for you too? That's all I was doing!"

"Then maybe we're _both_ stupid!"

Yzak's eyes flew wide. Dearka gritted his teeth without warning as his upper half contracted. Then he hissed in pain and Yzak watched ripples of intense discomfort wash over tanned, tired features. The blonde fell back.

"Dearka, are you all right?" The Duel pilot's inquiry came out choked.

Yzak didn't know what to do, and the notion frightened him. He couldn't stand it – he wanted to stop the pain that threatened his companion's wellbeing, but he didn't know how. Then suddenly, he reached out a hand.

Dearka's arm came up and knocked it away. Yzak Jule stared.

Never once had Dearka _ever_ pushed him aside at a moment like this. And there _had_ been moments in the past. After a battle when they'd had no one to turn to but each other. A tortured night when dreams of the killing they'd wreaked haunted them and stole them from sleep. Times when Yzak's walls were down. Times when they were alone. Memories stretched back to their war days, marching backward through time. The two of them had always trusted each other. Perhaps it was that none of those moments could form a parallel with the present moment, there in the hospital room where Yzak felt himself freeze with desperation.

He hadn't expected Dearka to reject him. The silver head felt a lump form in the back of his throat, but he fought it down, for he was sure his life and dignity depended on it.

"Don't," Dearka ordered, and that was all.

So Yzak brought his hand down slowly and stood. He took four weighted steps that led him to the door, and then he put his hand over the knob with a calm that might have worried him had he not been deadened already. Four steps from the bed to the door. Dearka was shutting him out. Four steps it had taken, to reach the exit and to walk out on all that had made both of them hurt. And all that Yzak loved.

"Fuck." Dearka swore with a mangled, half-sob. "Wait."

If the entire Atlantic Federation had sprung from the walls to attack him, the silver-haired male could not have moved.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Yzak whispered.

"I-I just meant that if you…"

"If I what, Dearka?"

But Dearka had stopped again. Yzak turned. The tanned, smooth arm was back over the blonde's face, shutting out those violet eyes from sight.

"Don't go numb on me, Yzak," the blonde pleaded. "Not just yet." At that, the silver head released the doorknob from his white-knuckled grip. The words came again, quieter. "Not just yet."

Yzak took the four steps back to the bedside in two. Dearka lifted his arm long enough to look at him. The silver-haired Coordinator studied the violets that were dark with sorrow, and he was sure his own eyes had lost their ice as well. Yzak desperately needed to understand, or the blade in his heart was sure to draw agony.

"What am I supposed to do for you, Dearka?" His tone carried a strain of hopelessness. "I don't know what to do when something has happened to you and I can't fix it. You're not supposed to break."

"I didn't break. I fell."

Even though Dearka had half his face hidden when he said it, Yzak caught the glisten of something damp under the shadow of Dearka's arm. The Duel pilot's brainwaves short-circuited.

"I fell for you, Yzak. You and your god damn smart remarks. You and your stupid indifference. Your eyes, making me think you might actually feel something in that merciless, cold heart of yours. Every time we came into contact, I lost it a little bit more."

Dearka jerked a hand to his ribcage, and Yzak's eyes snapped to the spot. The starchy white bandage was tinted crimson where the bullet had been lodged. But the blonde did not stop.

"I know you gave me everything you had. I know I'm already lucky to be as close to you as I am. I should have been content. But I'm a stupid bastard like you've always said, and I wanted more from you than you had the capacity to give." Red seeped into the gauze, like thin watercolor. "I fell so hard, Yzak. So hard. What could I do? You wouldn't let anything touch you. And Miriallia was there, and I had to forget _you_, damn it. I thought it was working. I got so good at lying."

The re-opened wound had colored a spot on the bandages that wrapped the Buster pilot's chest. Yzak leaned forward, seized the wrist of the tan hand that tried to hide the blood and wrenched it away. The stitches had pulled, likely from Dearka's exertion. Yzak trembled. He had no mind left to think with. He had no breath left to breathe.

"Yzak, I'm sorry I lost my control and made so many wrong moves. And yeah, I'm a little ragged right now, too. I want to keep it together so you don't have to bother, but…" Now a wry smile graced the blonde's gentle lips. "But I'm such an idiot that I love you, and I don't think I can stop."

Dearka's free hand came up and traced a regretful caress over Yzak's face. The silver head felt his heart beating swiftly, an ache behind every agonizing pulse. He was dizzy and lightheaded, nauseous and feverish. Dearka's hand was on the back of his neck now, lightly guiding him forward with a tug that felt like a final effort, a defeated last request. The silver-haired male moved as though in a hypnotic trance. Vaguely, he realized that _his_ hand was still on Dearka's other wrist. The places where they were making contact seared him, burned him with pleasure. And guilt. And anger and sorrow and bursting, flaming, overwhelming love.

Their lips met. The static touch fired off tingling sensations that invaded his soul to hit the deepest part of him, a realm where only someone Yzak Jule _loved_ could go. Suddenly, the impact of the situation assailed him. Dearka sat crumbling while their lips melded because he believed they were touching for the last time.

Yzak ended the kiss the moment his slow commands reached his limbs. It was far from the last time, and he had to tell Dearka so.

The blonde was bravely awaiting a reply, masking his mortification well when Yzak took a string of long seconds to react. Or maybe it was the pain that kept Dearka's face stone straight.

"I _do_ feel something for you, Dearka," he said. "I can't kid myself any better than you can. Don't you dare go deciding I don't love you without asking my opinion about it first."

The blonde appeared as if bolt of electricity had struck him. Then he risked a little laugh, unsure whether he should entertain such a ludicrous entreaty when his heart was breaking.

"Dearka."

Yzak met the other male's eyes and willed every emotion he felt to rise to the surface. For once in his life, he wanted to pulverize his wretched walls. He wanted to let the untainted truth sink into the mind of the tanned Coordinator across from him. Maybe he'd been a fool the entire time, but he'd been given a chance to make things right. So the silver head waited for a sign.

"Fine then," Dearka submitted, jerkily, as if his words were figures writhing under a strobe light. Yzak watched him swallow. "Do you love me, Yzak Jule?"

"Oh, I love you Elsman." And Yzak kissed him, hard.

He let the fingers of both hands curl into Dearka's thick, golden locks. He was leaning over the bed. Dearka reached up, disbelieving, to tuck away a strand of Yzak's silvery hair that had slipped free and brushed his cheek. Then Dearka gave in to the kiss in full. The Duel pilot felt desire wash over him as the blonde looped an arm around his waist, hauled him forward, and held him tightly despite their awkward position and Dearka's injury.

Yzak let the pleasure consume him. This was what he wanted. Not just Dearka's body, not just an inseparable friendship. He needed the opposite Coordinator's entire being to exist alongside his forever and eternity. The knowledge made him feel whole somehow. Dearka Elsman was the only thing on Earth and in the PLANTs not worth dying for, but worth _living_ for — for as long as life flowed through him.

The door swung open with a careful creak, and the nurse entered, a mild lift of her eyebrows the only reaction she spared them upon noting their intimate pose. Carefully, Yzak released Dearka and guided him back down to the pillows. The nurse tapped her foot impatiently on the tile. When she glimpsed the spot of red that marred the white bandages, she tisked at the blonde's foolishness.

"I'm hungry," Dearka volunteered with a grin, a peace offering to ease her disapproval.

All Yzak could do was fight to choke his laugh into an innocent cough.


	24. At Last

"It's your turn, Dearka," Kira struggled, fighting back a giggle as his sister poked him in the ribcage. "Stop it, Cagalli," he whined. "Go bother Athrun!"

Athrun looked affronted. "Can't we all just concentrate on the game at hand?"

Yzak rolled his eyes. How in the _hell_ did he get suckered into this immature game _again_?

He surveyed the numerous bottles that lay scattered around the interior of Dearka's apartment. They'd only been back on Earth for a day – hardly time to recuperate after such an ordeal at the PLANTs. But that hadn't stopped Lacus from calling for a get-together in order to celebrate Dearka's recovery, or Cagalli from asking Dearka if she could bring alcohol. Yzak had been listening to their phone conversation then, and had given the blonde a well-aimed smack. It hadn't stopped Dearka from agreeing to the proposal, or the princess of Orb from showing up with the drinks despite the Duel plot's objections.

Dearka laughed as he took the empty bottle from Kira and placed it on the coffee table. As the laughter grew heartier, the blonde winced and reached for his chest, where the doctor had re-done his stitches with a warning not to strain himself.

Yzak narrowed his eyes and raised his voice above the twittering giggles of Lacus Clyne. "Elsman, if you aren't careful with that wound, I'll send you _back_ to the hospital with a few more."

The Buster pilot grinned as he gave the bottle a twist. "I hear you, Yzak. No worries."

The bottle rocked and spun until it wobbled to a halt in the direction of a certain pink-haired songstress. Lacus didn't seem to notice, as the Strike pilot had decided at that moment to bestow her with his own kiss on the tip of her nose. Yzak shot them a scathing glare. How dare they make his stomach lurch with such a sickening display?

But Dearka let out a low whistle and eyed the singer. "I get to kiss an idol."

"Oh no you don't."

An arm extended across the blonde's chest and halted him in his tracks. "Why don't you check the direction that bottle is facing one more time, Mr. Elsman?"

Dearka spun around to glance at the bottle, and Miriallia Haww winked at Yzak over his shoulder.

Yzak Jule had seen her inconspicuously reach out and shift the object's position. The neck of the bottle now faced _his_ direction. He clamped his jaw shut and fixed the female with a disapproving sneer.

"You're pushing your luck, Haww."

By now, Dearka had realized that his new target was Yzak. Miriallia forced back a laugh and shrugged at the silver head. "He's been looking like he's wanted to get at you all night," she said apologetically.

Yzak growled something dark and incoherent as Dearka made his way forward amidst wild hooting and shouts from the rest of the room's occupants, who had begun to comprehend what was happening. Yzak flinched. Leave it to the Natural female to throw a wrench into things. His hands shot out to keep the staggering Dearka from getting at him, but the tanned male overpowered him and soon their lips had crashed together.

Dearka's mouth against his was a dizzying sensation, as it had always been, firm and seductive and all too compelling. He was never going to get sick of this.

With complete disregard to the commotion in the room, Yzak submitted with a shiver of delight. Dearka kneeled over him on the sofa, tangled his fingers in Yzak's silver hair, pressed his tongue inside and explored his mouth with a teasing grace that made the silver head shudder. It felt good. It felt good to _admit_ that it felt good.

Then his cell phone began to ring.

Instinctively, Yzak reached for it, but Dearka was faster. Still with their lips held locked, the blonde searched the Duel pilot's pocket where the sound emanated from. Yzak shifted at the intrusion, unintentionally pressing himself against Dearka harder and drawing a gasp as the friction shot a bolt of desire through him. Then the blonde was pulling away cheekily with Yzak's phone in his grasp, but not before sucking on the silver head's lower lip and leaving him breathless.

Yzak sat stunned on the couch, ruffled beyond all coherent thought due to still-fading waves of pleasure. The others gaped in astonishment, stricken by the chain of quick events that had begun with a kiss and somehow ended with a ringing telephone. Miriallia was doubled over with laughter that only got louder when Yzak made a face.

Dearka lifted the phone to his ear and spoke with a slight slur to the person on the other end.

"Oh, Ms. Ezalia? Yes, you have the correct number," he was saying. "Yzak? Can he call you back? He's a bit indisposed right now…"

The silver-haired male shot up from the sofa, mortified. "ARRGH! Elsman, give me that phone," he shrieked, fury turning his pale features purple.

Dearka took off down the hall, and Miriallia stepped aside to make way for the silver head to pass her in his rage. Yzak pursued the fleeing blonde at top speed, cursing himself for allowing his companion to take his phone from him. The blonde shot around the corner and through the first door on the right.

When Yzak entered the doorway, Dearka was standing passively as if nothing had occurred, the cell phone held loosely in his grasp. Yzak paused, eyeing him cautiously.

"What the hell are you up to, Elsman?"

There was a gleam in Dearka's violet eyes. "Up to? Absolutely nothing." It was then that Yzak realized the blonde was perfectly balanced. And come to think of it, he hadn't tasted alcohol when Dearka had so boldly stolen his lips.

"You aren't drunk after all," Yzak observed, irritated.

The grin was triumphant. "Who ever said I was?"

Yzak sputtered until he could form the angry words he wanted. "Th-then what are you…"

"Relax," Dearka said, dropping his teasing smile and moving to close the door gently behind them. Yzak pivoted and watched him warily. Next Dearka reached into his pocket and pulled out a second cell phone. His.

"I had to get us out of there somehow," he explained, feigning innocence.

The silver head suddenly made sense of the clever ploy. Dearka tossed his now-useless device onto the bedside table before offering Yzak his own back as well. Yzak glanced at the caller ID when the blonde surrendered it. _Dearka Elsman_.

"Asshole," Yzak grumbled, turning the wretched thing off and placing it onto the table next to the blonde's. "Then it wasn't my mother."

"No," Dearka replied, plunking onto the bed on his back. "I thought you'd figure that out, because you already talked to her."

It was true. Ezalia had contacted them when their shuttle back to Earth had landed, carrying news of the Blue Cosmos. Edmond Chambers had been found dead; the details of how he'd died had not yet been exposed. Yzak and Miriallia had not needed to guess. The memory of the exploding Supreme Council building was enough to ease their curiosity about how Chambers had met his end.

As for the rest of the Blue Cosmos members lurking in the area, Ezalia Jule had personally escorted them to a holding facility. They would wait there until further notice concerning whether or not they would be allowed a trial before the Council members. The Earth Alliance would be contacted in the mean time – the attack was a breach of the peace treaty signed after the war. Tension between Naturals and Coordinators would likely rise again as a result. If Yzak was needed at the PLANTs, he would be called back to don his ZAFT uniform once more.

"I know what you're thinking," Dearka said softly. "The future doesn't look too bright right now, does it?"

"If I have to go back," Yzak murmured, "I'm dragging you with me, so don't think you're escaping anything this way."

Dearka sat up long enough to stretch out an arm and tug Yzak down onto the bed beside him. "I'll go with you on my own. No way in hell I'm letting you out of my sight again."

The silver head sighed as the blonde draped an arm across him and proceeded to bury his face in the crook of Yzak's neck. Yzak reached up and sifted his fingers through Dearka's wavy hair. Muffled noises from the living room reverberated through the silence – Lacus singing snatches of a new song, Cagalli poking fun at her brother and the sapphire-haired Justice pilot. Miriallia Haww telling them that they'd all had enough to drink and should be going home. Yzak let a tiny curve alight on his lips at that. He'd have to thank the Natural female later.

"Yzak," mumbled Dearka as he ran his hand across the smooth surface of Yzak's cheek.

The silver-haired male squirmed and pulled away. "What? Don't get sentimental on me, idiot."

At first, Dearka looked taken aback. Then he chuckled and moved forward to capture Yzak's lips in a gentle, loving lock.

"Well," he said when he was through bestowing the usual, irresistible surge of desire upon his quarry, "Just thought I'd make sure that you know that I—"

"I get it, Elsman," Yzak interrupted, fighting not to turn red. "You don't have to say it. Just shut up before they find us."

It felt so right, to be lying there in the dim light with Dearka so close to him. To know that everything they'd gone through had reinforced the things they'd felt. They had a bond, one that had always been there, but now it was strengthened tenfold and he'd be damned if he ever let go of what he'd finally managed to gain. It had taken them one long, hard journey to determine everything, but now Yzak felt light and content. He gripped Dearka tighter.

"We're fools," he muttered into the blonde's flaxen hair, allowing his eyes to drift closed serenely.

Dearka snorted in reply and Yzak frowned. "Fools that got exactly what they wanted in the end despite their mistakes," he clarified cheekily.

"Idiot," the silver head insulted in response. He listened to their mingled breathing and felt the steady pumping of his own heart. Perhaps the suffering had made everything that much more precious in the end.

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Dearka," he admitted in the hush that followed. "Not any other way."

**FIN.**

_A/N: Feels good to be finished. It also feels warm and fuzzy. And kind of sad because I can't believe it's all over. Thanks to everyone for all the support while I was writing this, and all the enthusiastic reviews. Until next time!_

_- The Silver Sole Alchemist_


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